Cake By The Ocean : 1942
by PseudonymousEntity
Summary: Riddle glanced at him sidelong. "Have I, for an unfathomable reason, acquired an unwanted pet?" Locked in his headmaster's office after the events at the ministry, Harry discovers a collection of memories revealing the childhood of his enemy...and his own. But, it is what he does with this information that matters.
1. Black Forest

***C*B*T*O***

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 **Cake By The Ocean** by **Pseudonymous Entity**

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"Every great story seems to begin with a snake." **-Nicolas Cage**

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 **Summary:** "I killed Sirius Black." Locked in his headmaster's office after the events at the ministry, Harry discovers a collection of memories revealing the childhood of his enemy...and his own. The Boy Who Lived is not pleased.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore

 **Warnings:** Unknown at this point. When I figure out if I am continuing this or not I'll fill this in.

 **AN:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **ANx2: Shall I post more?**

 **ANx3:** Take a look at Pseu's horrid illustration skills.

 **Ever Yours, Pseu [The clever, magnificent and ridiculously good looking]**

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 _"...Sweet words from a serpent's tongue, It's like playing with a loaded gun_

 _I swear I see you watching me..._ _"_

 **-Enemy Fire**

* * *

Harry darted through the crowd of battling magic folk with a single-mindedness he'd never exhibited outside of flying.

His body moved almost of its own accord, tilting and turning as needed. Serving around other people, ducking under spells, leaping over both as necessary. Never once did he trip. Never once did he run into another or get hit by a wayward -or directed- spell. The rest of them were left behind a good minute before registered it with apathy in the corner of his mind. He didn't need them. they wouldn't let him do this. They'd try to keep him safe, but when had that ever worked out for him? No he needed to be on his own to do this. In his sights a dark clothed figure with equally dark hair ran gaily in front of him. He realized then that she was headed for the floo. Well, he couldn't allow that.

He'd like to say he did it without thinking. And if anyone asked he'd say as much...if he were caught. That it was impulsive. His Gryffindorishness driven into overdrive from his recent emotional trauma. He bet both Mrs Weasley and the school mediwitch would buy that. In truth, he'd considered from the moment his Godfather fell through the veil precisely how he would make Bellatrix Lestrange pay for it. For taking his last chance at family away from him. It was only fair. An eye for an eye and all that.

Harry didn't know what the witch most cared about so this would have to do.

 _"Crucio."_

The spell hit her in the back. The tall witch stumbled forward and fell to the ground with a yelp of surprise. A mass of ringlets flowed to the side while too skinny hands raised her up from the floor. She managed to turn over only just barely out of breath. With an uneven grin Bellatrix eyed him arrogantly. "You've got to mean it, Potter." She taunted. "It won't work if you don-"

 _"Crucio."_ Her head smacked back against the floor and she let out a small shriek. Still not good enough. He knew that because she was still grinning though she was in pain. Privately he didn't think he was doing half bad considering he'd never cast the spell before, nor anything else like it in his life.

Slow clapping drew his attention. Harry tilted his head to see to the side. There, watching them, was Voldemort. Tall and pale and altogether frightening, the man walked to them. His red eyes set on Harry. The closer he came the tenser Harry went. Perhaps he could barter with the man? Allow him to torture Bellatrix Lestrange -he was certain he could master the curse- and in exchange Voldemort could kill him. Harry didn't have all that much to live for at this point honestly. If anyone found out he'd already be off to Azkaban. Maybe he could ask for Sirius' cell...

"Try again." The tone of voice was one Harry hadn't heard since his second year. In had come in a very different form then, of a Sixteen year old boy with dark curls and blue eyes. His skin raised up in gooseflesh, hair standing on end. Voldemort stopped inches from his side. "She deserves it." The Dark lord insisted, in that same eerie, low crooning. "You know she deserves it. Try it again Potter. Concentrate."

Feeling exceptionally daring this evening Harry allowed himself to actually follow this line of conversation. "Does it have to be her I want to hurt or anyone, so long as I cast the spell?" Maye he needed a little more hate. His Uncle Vernon and Aunt Marge's faces floated through his mind.

He was rewarded with a lipless smile of approval. "As long as you mean it Potter."

Keeping his wand trained on Bellatrix, Harry locked eyes with Voldemort. Might as well add him, the man murdered his parents after-all.

 _"Crucio."_ He murmured.

The scream that tore out of the witch sent chills crawling up his spine in an ugly, delightful way. Bellatrix's body arched off the ground unnaturally, blood dripping from her lips where she'd tried to keep her screams to herself. Obviously it hadn't been successful. It was sort of fascinating. Did she do this when she tortured Neville's parents into insanity? How long would he need to hold her under it to do the same? Surely not as long. She was already...unstable.

Voldemort raised a hairless brow. "I suppose all you needed was the proper motivation." He said dryly.

The younger wizard gave The Dark Lord his very best pretend smile. It was wide and beaming and showed just enough teeth but not too many.

"Apparently." The two of them -The Dark lord and The Boy Who lived- stood there together, listening to the screaming until it became a growl and then faded into a torturous keening. The sounds reverberated off the walls around them. An unholy opera of vengeance. Eventually, the sound stopped though her mouth reminding wide open. Her screams silent. Neither of them made any sudden movements. Neither of them certain what to do now that they found themselves in a pseudo-ceasefire.

"Feel better?"

Harry snapped his attention to Voldemort. "I do actually."

They wouldn't get to finish the conversation. Dumbledore arrived and engaged Voldemort in a duel. It was a sight to behold. Harry watched from his position behind a statue and wondered if anyone else alive had ever seen anything like it? Perhaps back when Dumbledore battled Grindelwald maybe. Harry had two specific thoughts while watching the show the older wizards performed. The first was what the hell a wizard had to do to learn how to do what they were doing. Manipulating fire and water weren't things they taught at Hogwarts. The second; was whether or not he wanted his headmaster to win the duel. It would be over then, wouldn't it? If he defeated Voldemort then and there? The man who tormented Harry would be gone and he could live.

Harry frowned to himself. His Godfather would still be dead. He would still have to return to his horrible family. And he would still be the BWL. He could do without the offing of his classmates if Voldemort survived. At least the ones he liked. Maye he could convince him to show Harry the Imperious next time. On Bellatrix again of course. Or Wormtail. Definitely Wormtail.

It was a draw. Sort of.

The Minister for Magic arrived. Chaos ensued. His headmaster dragged him back to Hogwarts and locked him in his office. Which was bloody fantastic. Really. Harry lived for the moments when the adults around him shoved him around and told him nothing. Sometimes being a fifteen year old wizard wasn't much different from being a five year old freak. Locked in where they could be out of the way until you were ready to deal with them. And no questions of course. Merlin forbid someone somewhere actually answer some of Harry's questions. A voice in his head pointed out that Voldemort f all people had answered one of Harry's questions. He scoffed. While that was well and good he sincerely doubted the man would do it again and if he did he wouldn't be interested in Harry's teenage turmoil.

He grinned to himself. The image of Voldemort and himself chatting over afternoon tea playing in his mind.

How ridiculous.

Still no sign of his headmaster. What was he doing that was so damn important? His shoes squeaked on the floor. He paced like a caged tiger. Life wasn't fair. He knew it better than most but couldn't Fate -or whoever or whatever- give him a break? There had to be a deity out there somewhere that could _throw him a friggin bone here._

The odd gadgets whirring in the headmaster office clattered and shook on their shelves and desktops. His magic long since loosing its self of his halfhearted attempt at containing it. In response to his anger, it swirled about the room. Trinkets burst and snapped and toppled to the floor. It suited his mood fine. Maybe the man would rethink locking him away when he saw the mess his magic was intent on creating.

Harry hated, more than anything, being locked up. Restrained. Trapped. Nails pressed into the soft flesh of his palms, flexing now and then. He hated this.

"I'm not a pet!" Harry growled. His magic flashing in the air around him. The sound of broken glass. Harry turned. There a cupboard in the corner of the room, holding what he knew now to be a pensive. The shelving below and above it filled with tiny glass tubes Harry imagined held memories. The slightest glimmer of guilt filtered in through his emotional storm. Those might have been important.

Annoyed with himself Harry stomped over and knelt down to clean it up. He would hide it of course. He wasn't feeling guilty enough to admit to it. Carefully Harry pulled down the edge of his sleeve to cover his hand and pushed the pieces into it. A neatly written label was affixed to the top half of the vial, the rest of it in pieces. The name scrawled on it caused the Boy Who Lived to pause in his actions, hand tightening on the glass with no heed to the pain resulting from the action.

 _Harry potter._

Vial after vial Harry poured into the pensive. It was all there. Hiding in a tree while Aunt Marge's horrid dog snarled at him from the bottom. Sleeping in the tool shed. The pictures taped to the wall in his cupboard. What the Hell! How dare he have these. Harry froze. He knew. That bastard knew and he'd done nothing. He kept him there when he could have been at Grimauld with Sirius. When he could have been at the Weasleys. He kept him there, he knew and he did it anyway. Harry made to reach for another when he noticed the name adorning the tubes on the top shelving of vials.

 _Tom Riddle._

No way. Harry stared. Two seconds of hesitation then Harry was grabbing them as well. Vials labeled _The Orphanage_ and _Gaunt_ were dumped into the mix. One after another he looked through, each venture into the silvery bowl upsetting him more than the last. Harry glanced for another good one to see. His hand stopped in midair. There was one labeled The Prophecy. Harry dumped the ones he had in the pockets of Dudley's oversized hoodie he had yet to change out of. It was torn and soaked with blood and sweat and now it would house memories of Harry's childhood and that of Lord Voldemort. The only useful thing the item had ever done.

 **"...the seventh month dies.."**

Dumbledore chose that moment to return to his office. Whatever he expected to be waiting for him, a room full of broken objects and a furious BWL probably wasn't it. The man slowed his steps at the sight. "Harry?"

The wizard in question turned and grabbed a handful of vials from the shelf and advanced toward the old man, holding them up for him to see. "When were you going to tell me? Why do you even have this? You knew?"

"I intended to tell you."

"What, now that you weren't sure how much of it I heard? Now that you don't know how much Voldemort heard? Now that you know I know of it?" Harry clenched the vials in his hands. "Why would you do this? Why wouldn't you tell me? If I had known what was there I never would have gone. Sirius wouldn't..." His throat closed up.

A distant part of his mind pointed out that he'd need to apologize to Bellatrix at some point. He'd Crucio'd the wrong person. The Dark Lord actually might have him over for tea if he cast an unforgivable at the headmaster. They could discuss their shared loathing for the man. Unfortunately he only knew the one and if it were blocked -or the man recovered quick enough- Harry would be so screwed. This was still Dumbledore and he was still just fifteen year old Harry Potter, insane luck or no insane luck. Besides, he probably wouldn't be allowed back at the school if he cursed a member of staff. That wouldn't do.

"Harry. You must understand. I only did what I thought was best. I did not want you to suffer the burden of knowing. I thought I might give you a bit of childhood before you were forced to deal with-"

The enraged wizard slammed his fist on the desk. "Don't give me that crap!" He winced. He _needed_ to stop stabbing himself with glass. Harry turned his hand over and began picking the glass out, avoiding even looking at his headmaster. He didn't know what he would do if he didn't calm down. Harry watched the memory liquid smeared across his cuts and wondered absently if there would be any negative side effects from it. He'd have to ask Hermione. After he showed her the memories. She would know what to do. This couldn't be legal.

Harry stumbled as he gained the feeling of falling through the floor. His hand shot out and grasped the edge of the desk. What was that? He glanced up at his headmaster who had apparently been saying something to him this entire time and was oblivious to the sudden distress of his student. The feeling returned. Harry shut his eyes, feeling for all the world like he was sliding through the entrance to The Chamber of Secrets only it never ended. He just kept falling. When it stopped Harry opened his eyes.

He blinked and turned around, startled.

Dumbledore was gone. And everything was fixed. Or actually, none of the gadgets were there anymore. Harry swallowed and closed his eyes again, taking in deep breaths. When he opened them nothing had changed. Something was...off. He couldn't put his finger on it. The door to the office opened and a man he'd never seen before walked in. He was thin with a triangular beard and graying hair. The man stopped when he saw Harry.

They stared at one another. Harry at the stranger in his headmaster's office. The man at the ragamuffin of a teenager.

"My, but I thought you were..." He trailed off, giving Harry a once over. "Forgive me, I suppose you wouldn't be. You are one of the applicants I assume? From the day school?" The man rattled on for a bit, rummaging through a pile of parchment with Harry nodding numbly. Who had he reminded him of? Harry wasn't certain anyone could mistake him for someone else. Not to be vain but he was probably the most well known person in the wizarding world outside of Dumbledore and Voldemort. Harry made to put his hands in his pockets and realized he still held the broken glass. Subtly Harry glanced down to see it. The label on this vial read 1942.

"Son?"

Harry glanced up. "Sorry sir, what was that?"

Unknown-Man-With-Really-Awesome-Beard rose a too perfect to not be plucked brow at Harry. "Your surname child. After you, we'll have used up our slots for the year and we must get your paperwork through as soon as possible, mustn't we?"

That is when everything hit him.

 _1942_. The year repeated in his brain. _1942\. 1942. 1942._ After spending Merlin knew how long diving into stolen memories Harry thought he had a pretty good idea of what was going on. He was in a memory right? Of the year 1942. That was the year Riddle made that diary that Harry would find in his second year. The year he opened the chamber right? And this man must be the headmaster from that time and he thought Harry was Riddle when he first walked in. The teenage Dark Lord wannabe had mentioned it himself how alike they were, even similar in looks.

Feeling vindictive, Harry put on his best pretend smile for the second time in twenty-four hours. If he played this right he could get back at several people who thoroughly deserved it. Harry shifted his stance into a more lazy, confident one. Eased back his shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it back into soft waves rather than flopped in messy ones over his forehead. No one here would recognize his scar for what it was. The mannerisms were surprisingly easy to settle into. Ones he hadn't seen since he was twelve but was fairly certain he wouldn't ever forget.

"It's Gaunt."

And then Harry grinned for real.

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 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2017**

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 **Notes**

As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **AN:** Just an idea I had. If you're interested in a full story let me know and I'll see what I can do.

 **-Pseu**

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 _"Oh no, see you walkin' around like it's a funeral -_ _Not so serious, why those cold feet?_ _We just getting started, don't you tiptoe-tiptoe_

 _Waste time with a masterpiece, don't waste time with a masterpiece._ _You should be rolling with me, you should be rolling with me_

 _But you're moving so carefully; let's start living_ _Dangerously."_ **-Cake By The Ocean**


	2. German Chocolate

***C*B*T*O***

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 **Cake By The Ocean :** **Pseudonymous Entity**

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"Every great story seems to begin with a snake." **-Nicolas Cage**

* * *

 **Summary:** "I killed Sirius Black." Locked in his headmaster's office after the events at the ministry, Harry discovers a collection of memories revealing the childhood of his enemy...and his own. It is what he does with the information that is interesting.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore

 **Warnings:** Unknown at this point. When I figure out if I am continuing this or not I'll fill this in.

 **AN:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **ANx2:** Once again you lot surprise me with your interest to my in little, insignificant story ideas.

 **ANx3:** I will be posting illustrations of my ideas of the characters and creatures and places in this and my other stories on Deviant Art for those interested in giving them a look. Let me know and I'll give you a link.

 **ANx4** : Still think you're interested in where this is going?

 **Ever Yours, Pseu [The clever, magnificent and ridiculously good looking]**

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 _"...one surrenders one's reality to the person to whom one lies_

 _Making that person one's master_

 _Condemning oneself from then on to faking the sort of reality that person's view requires to be faked…_

 _The man who lies to the world is the world's slave from then on…_

 _And a white lie is the blackest of all."_

 **― Ayn Rand**

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 **Cake by the Ocean : Chapter 2**

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"It's Gaunt."

Assuming a fake identity. He was a terrible Gryffindor.

Harry _had_ once pretended to be someone else when he rode the Knight Bus for the first time. Almost gotten away with it too though it hadn't been well thought out. After knowing people like Quirrell with his fake stutter and persona, Lockhart with his fake everything, Lupin hiding his werewolf and Barty pretending to be Moody...well. Harry rather thought he might actually get away with this.

The various memories he'd seen flickered through his mind, a plan forming and reforming and building. It was quite lucky this was just some sort of butchered memory really, otherwise he'd be far more concerned about the consequences of his actions. He didn't have to be, though. And he didn't have to be Harry Potter here either. He could act however he wanted, and say whatever he wanted because he didn't know these people and couldn't care less what they thought of him, and none of it would even matter in the end anyway. How _freeing._

Right now, filling out paperwork, Harry was relying on the things he'd come to learn about wizards since entering the world of magic.

In general, most especially if they were 'light' wizards, they tended to want to see the best in people and were far too trusting. Additionally, having grown up n a world of magic, they lacked what Hermione termed 'logic' and Harry termed 'Common Sense'. If he looked the part and acted the part they'd believe -or at least pretend to- just so they wouldn't look out of the loop, if they were socially aware, or so they wouldn't appear to be uninformed. Like an educator at a renowned school ought to be. If Harry said he was the wayward child of a reclusive line of purebloods come to seek a formal education and reenter society, then they would believe it. Or Dippet would. Harry planned on only a few ever discovering his 'cover'. Messing with both Riddle and Dumbledore was something he intended to enjoy to the fullest.

Thus he had two. One the supposed 'fake' and the one beneath it the supposed 'truth'. Because whoever had more than one cover? And it was so unlikely that he supposed they were likely to believe it simply because it would do it him more good socially to have the truth known than covered up. They would assume something scandalous was involved probably. Wizards were odd like tat.

Assuming everyone's greatest ambition was to be fawned over.

Ridiculous.

Still, this would work for his purposes. What was the point in learning the system if one didn't intend to use it to one's advantage? He wasn't in the real world it wasn't as if any of his choices would have real consequences. They can't have. Dumbledore would have offed him ages ago if the child destined to be equal to the dark lord grew up looking like him and into someone he remembered from the past. Time traveling toddlers with the power to defeat dark lords were definitely something that the old man would have done something about. Okay so maybe he wouldn't kill him. Probably. He would have been locked up somewhere. For his own good.

When did he become so bitter? He needed to lighten up. Sirius would prefer it.

He could use his size and clothing to project how _awful_ his pretend relatives were. Or fake really as they were real people simply not his real relatives. Having a tragic back story tended to gain you an obscene amount of leeway with people. Being wealthy or powerful or both did that as well. Unfortunately from what Harry had seen the Gaunt's blew through their wealth. There was no reason for the rest of the wizarding world to know that, however. And if he found an excuse to show off his skills... Everyone wanted to be friends with talented individuals. Like the talent would rub off on _them._

Wizards and Muggles had this alike. Uncle Vernon was constantly inviting far better employees over to impress them. Their talent never really rubbed off from what Harry had seen. But, his Uncle made up for his lack of talent in cleverness. He learned shortcuts and tricks to make it appear he held similar skills. He networked. Bribed. Blackmailed and Intimidated. Whatever it took.

If it hadn't been so often used to Harry's detriment it might have been something he could admire about him. A redeeming quality if morally questionable.

His relatives in this world didn't seem much better. Alas.

So Harry sat on a stool in the foreign familiar office and answered questions forming his new identity as they were given to him. Armando Dippet -in stark contrast to the methods of one Albus Dumbledore- respected any and all questions Harry hesitated to answer, without judgment. This was because Harry couldn't think up an answer quick enough but the man seemed to be of the opinion that these were topics he had a tough time addressing as a result f his 'home-life'. No pressure. No subtle insinuations it would be for the best if he shared the information or knowing looks expected to induce speech.

The man was vain as well which Harry found particularly entertaining. Dumbledore had always worn outlandish outfits and offered candies, perhaps to appear less than dangerous. Harry did not think Armando Dippet could bring himself to do the same no matter how worthy the reward. His dark hair had a massive amount of Malfoy-worthy product in it, each brow either plucked or waxed and the triangular beard on his chin held unnaturally straight lines. Several minutes of watching the man move his hands about as he spoke had Harry suspicious his nails were manicured. The way the light shines off of them as he so expressively moved them couldn't _possibly_ be an effect that could be achieved unaided.

For all his Malfoy-esque mannerisms, Harry found himself liking Dippet. He owned his vanity with a grace the younger Malfoy currently lacked.

"One last thing Gaunt. It is regular for students such as yourself to floo home at night or over the weekend as standard dorms are reserved for full-time, paid students. From your attire I assume you'd rather not floo home?" This was all said delicately.

Harry nodded, thinking. This could be problematic. He could rent a room somewhere if he managed to get money. What a hassle.

"I'd thought not."

"Perhaps," Harry paused. "Is there anything I could assist with in exchange for a stipend I could use to pay for a room here in the castle? Work as a teacher's aid or a tutor or help down in the greenhouses maybe? I would be more than willing sir, just as long as no notices of this development were sent home. ...you understand sir?"

Dippet's face darkened momentarily. "Yes, lad." Whatever it was the man thought Harry's reasons were worked ion his favour. It really did pay off to make ambiguous statements and let other people come to their own conclusions. "I do think something like that can be arranged."

While Dippet made plans for Harry to come to the school and perform various tasks, Harry sat back on his little school and considered all of the happenings of the last twenty-four hours. He thought of that wretched woman and the curse she used against him. He thought of leaving her behind to the centaur's mercy without any of his own to give to her. Harry thought of running off to the Ministry to save his godfather only to have the man lose his life rescuing Harry from his foolishness. He thought of exacting revenge from Bellatrix for stealing his Godfather from his life. Of the strange interaction with Lord Voldemort. Harry thought of the return to the castle, of being imprisoned within the headmaster's office and the secrets he'd found there.

He considered everything he'd learned that day and he knew that _this_ would be the time to back out. _This_ would be the time to leave and to find the Dumbledore of this time and spill his guts and try to find a way to end this pseudo-memory driven fantasy.

He knew even as he thought those things that he would not, could not do so. Dumbledore had known the prophecy and kept it from him. He had known how he was treated at him and still made him return every summer. Had done nothing. Dumbledore had allowed him to grow believing he was worthless. Oh but Harry knew now. _The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal._ Harry wasn't worthless. He had never been worthless. Harry believed, really believed, that any individual who should put their own desire for the world and their own plans before the welfare of a child deserved an appropriate punishment.

He had seen it after all. The memories. A young Tom Riddle in an especially horrid orphanage run but a drunkard woman and he wondered, what did he do to you? To make you this way? Is he doing the same to me? Will I be driven to destroy every piece of myself to make myself anew in order to escape it? Will I learn to hate the world with such ferocity, too?

The worst thing about discovering being lied to, is knowing you somehow weren't worth the truth. It wasn't worth it. You weren't trusted enough. Valued enough. The services you could provide in ignorance of the lie were all wanted, surely, but you yourself? The you you were beneath or perhaps without all of those things that had made you valuable. That person wasn't worth anything at all. What a horrible thing t do. To make a child, any child, feel that way. To allow it. To believe it was worth it or them to feel that way. A thought process like this could do nothing but imply you never considered the child as a child and now a plaything of some kind. As anything other than a pawn or a piece in whatever game you were playing.

That is exactly what Harry had been to Dumbledore. He could never view his once mentor as the surrogate grandfather he'd become to him over the years, even when he was angry with him. The damage a lie had sown would not be mended. Could not be. Once sown its grown roots. Even it were ripped from the earth it would leave a scar there. And _what_ a lie. To know everything about another person in that way. To know things they didn't -and deserved- to know. To keep them from him. Harry felt foolish. Dumbledore was powerful and respected and because he'd given Harry attention Harry had trusted him without question. He had used the man's attentions to feel like he mattered, because Dumbledore thought he mattered. So he'd been willing to keep his questions to himself no matter how they burned. He'd been willing to return to the Dursleys no matter how it hurt. He'd sacrificed his thoughts and opinions and voice to this man.

Just as he had once done the same for his relatives when he was nothing but an unwanted subhuman creature beneath the stairs.

They completed the paperwork. Harry requested an additional alias -though Dippet did not know that there was one already in place- as an extra precaution. He said simply that he did not wish his relatives to know what he was doing with his time and for no one to have the means to inform them. Dippet readily agreed, charmed already by Harry's supposed tragic home life he'd merely hinted at. He did feel a twinge of guilt for using the man's sensibilities in a such a way. Harry took a half moment to acknowledge what he was doing wasn't technically ' _right_ ' and proceeded to shove any and all feelings of guilt into a corner in his mind somewhere in a box marked ' _useless_ '. His new 'new identity' finished, Harry arranged to meet with the man the next day to agree upon a schedule for his duties, whatever they may be.

Walking from the castle Harry already knew the next steps in his plan. Involving a matron at an orphanage, two horrid wizards and the liberal use of _Obliviates_ and _Confundus_ charms. It didn't much matter if he messed it up. It was all pretended, and it felt sort of good. Being bad. Maybe he could perfect his mind work well enough he could shock his Potions Professor when he returned. He found himself wanting to make some sort of amends with the man now that he knew Occulmancy would have actually helped.

A place to stay too. He did not want to stay at the Gaunts and while staying at the Leaky Cauldron was something he'd done before he was afraid it would be noticed. So, perhaps he would stay in the Chamber? No one else would be using it. Not yet. He would use the money he earned to get himself a better wardrobe. He could perhaps even pay a visit to the come and go room. Find some fabric or something he could use to make the things he could not afford. Find some history books too. There was only so much he could get away with bluffing knowledge of. He thoroughly blamed Professor Binns for this gap in his knowledge.

Stepping outside of the wards, Harry turned to look at the castle.

It didn't matter what his headmaster's intentions were in the end. Harry held no doubts that Dumbledore believed his choices were he was doing what he truly thought was best for the world. That didn't mean much to a Freak from Under the Stairs. It just didn't. Harry couldn't find it within himself to be that forgiving. To be that understanding. To be that merciful. He wouldn't, he didn't and he wasn't.

So, in this moment, crossing this line so bold before him, Harry allowed himself to do something he'd never indulged in. Harry thought and acted selfishly.

He was a fifteen-year-old presented with an opportunity, you see. The very best and very worst sort of opportunity. To change things. To meddle. To avenge his hurts. An opportunity. He might not be able to make the memory a reality once he'd left it behind, but he could take what he learned with him. The opportunity was waiting, in front of him.

And he took it.

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2017**

* * *

 **Notes**

As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **AN:** I do have an idea where I want this to go. I know the end game anyway and I know the things I'd like to have happen. To be honest I have never liked most 'time travel stories' that I have read because Harry almost always reveals himself immediately to someone or he's found out int he first ten chapters. I don't find it likely that being odd would have people -a genius like Tom Riddle or not- suddenly deciding you were a time traveler. Additionally, if I were to find myself in another time -a memory warped version of it or not- and a chance to be someone else for a bit, I wouldn't tell a soul. I wouldn't even feel inclined to.

I do hope everyone is alright with the darker aspirations of this story.

 **ANx2:** Points if you think you can guess where this may be going.

 **-Pseu**

* * *

 _"Remember the good old days before I was replaced -_ _By a fake._ _Stop looking at the mess we've made, oh what the Hell_

 _Let's have another night of making mistakes._ _Five steps from the centre we stand, let's throw a coin up and see how it lands_

 _The way we were, the way we weren't, who's to say?_ _How much of you in me do you still see?_

 _Change your name and your address, the result of consequence._ _Remember the good old days before I was replaced..._

 _By a snake."_

 **-The Fake, The Snake, and the Birthday Cake**


	3. Rum

***C*B*T*O***

* * *

 **Cake By The Ocean** **:** **Pseudonymous Entity**

* * *

"Every great story seems to begin with a snake." **-Nicolas Cage**

* * *

 **Summary:** "I killed Sirius Black." Locked in his headmaster's office after the events at the ministry, Harry discovers a collection of memories revealing the childhood of his enemy...and his own. It is what he does with the information that is interesting.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore

 **Warnings:** Unknown at this point. When I figure out if I am continuing this or not I'll fill this in.

 **AN:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **ANx2:** Once again you lot surprise me with your interest to my in little, insignificant story ideas.

 **ANx3:** I will be posting illustrations of my ideas of the characters and creatures and places in this and my other stories on Deviant Art for those interested in giving them a look. Let me know and I'll give you a link.

 **ANx4** : Still think you're interested in where this is going?

 **Ever Yours, Pseu [The clever, magnificent and ridiculously good looking]**

* * *

 _"Not everyone who reaches back into history can survive it_

 _And it is not only reaching back that endangers us_

 _Sometimes history itself reaches inexorably forward for us with its shadowy claws."_

 **― Elizabeth Kostova**

* * *

 **Cake by the Ocean : Chapter 3**

* * *

Harry sat firmly in a seat on a thankfully existent Knight Bus, looking aimlessly out the window.

Once he remembered the name of Riddle's orphanage Harry had immediately called for the Knight Bus without thinking whether it would haver existed yet. He knew nothing of its history or invention. No one else was aboard but for the driver thus when the conductor turned to him for payment Harry took a page out of Snape's book, made eye contact and dived into the wizard's mind. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when there were no shields protecting the man's thoughts until he remembered Snape's many lectures on the difficulty and rare use of the skill.

It was unlikely he'd meet many people with proper shields and Hell, he'd managed to get into Snape's if only for a moment and only in a moment of surprise. He doubted anyone he met here would have that dark haired wizard's skill in this branch of magic.

Uncharacteristically cocky Harry wandered through the conductor's memory out of curiosity. Finally, he altered the memory, just a bit, using part of a memory from actual tides on the knight bus, to get the man to believe he'd been paid. Harry pulled himself out and cheerily sat in a seat along the side. The conductor went to the front of the bus, if somewhat dazedly. Sitting there now, tapping his foot and drawing in the velvet on the seat, Harry wondered when he'd gotten the ability to be so ruthless? It did help none of it was real. If he knew there would be consequences he wouldn't dare act this way. The Boy Who Lived didn't act this way after all unless he wanted it all over the papers. God knew what Skeeter would do with that sort of information. Not that it was terribly worse than what they'd said about him lately.

In fact, they may not even may it much mind at this point.

Should he be grieving? Should he have a breakdown somewhere? Perhaps. But it was so much easier to function when you were angry with a plan than when you were curled in a ball dying inside.

So he didn't think of anything that happened but for fuel to add to his fire. He needed to be angry. He needed this. To act out, to display his unhappiness for the world. Or for the semi-alive memory people he was surrounded by. It was working, though. It wasn't that it made him feel good, it was that it made him feel better. There's a big difference between the two that only those who've been through Hell can understand. Feeling good is temporary. It's fragile. Feeling good is eating chocolate cake. But feeling better? Feeling better is getting the money to buy the ingredients for any cake you'd like. It wasn't specifically labeled, it didn't come with expectations. No one ever turned down the offer to feel better. Why did drug dealers and bankrupt businessmen get drunk with barely-making-it saw-millers at pubs? Not to feel good. To feel _better._ Feeling better even for a moment is wonderful. You can always do it again. When you feel good though you always compare every other moment of feeling good to all the others and weight them against each other.

The bus stopped. Harry stood and got out. After it left he stayed where he was surveying the sad building down the path from him. _Wool's Orphanage._

Inside the walls seemed to be as depressed as the outside of the building with their gray, peeling paint. One couch in the middle of the main room with a thin rug rolled out before it. Three children lay on it and none paid him any attention. Down the scratched wooden floors and along the right side of the room was a hallways and a door just before it. He was pretty sure that would be the office. Walking toward it, his shoes making muted taps, he sort of detached from himself and looked around. His inner self asking Harry's outer self, are we really doing this mate?

He reached up his hand and rapped on the door-frame. A woman's voice called for him to enter. Harry turned the dirty handle and pushed the door forward. The office furniture was a bit better than the couch he'd seen in the other room. There was a bookcase with a glass covered shelf, two small tables with a potted plant on one and mail in a basket on the other. Against the wall across from him a thick wooden desk. The woman seated at it glanced up at him, her eyes doing a quick survey of Harry as she did so.

He decided almost immediately that he did not like her.

"Coming or looking?" She prompted.

Harry frowned. "I'm sorry?"

The matron ticked her nails on the top of the desk impatiently. "Are you looking for a place to stay or for siblings?"

And then a very specific, sort of wicked, idea formed in Harry's Gryffindor/Slytherin hybrid mind.

Leaving the orphanage a small while later Harry congratulated himself. It was even easier to alter her memories than it had been to do the wizard's, whom he'd thought very easy indeed. Perhaps because she was a _muggle_ with no natural magic to give herself even the smallest of protection. Altering her memories had been as simple as taking a pen and drawing over something on a piece of paper. That and a few suggestions after a _confundus_ and it was done. So simple it surprised him. It pleased him. It frightened him.

Really, it was good most people didn't bother to learn this sort of stuff.

His next stop was Little Hangelton. Harry hadn't needed to think through the memories he'd seen to figure this out, he'd only needed one of his own. It was hard to forget the words on a tombstone when you were tied to it against your will. Harry knew exactly where Tom's parents must live. Or had lived. His mother obviously was gone and he didn't know whether the father had ever moved or not. The town was nice enough in its own way. There were carriages and a clear line between those who had just enough and those who had a lot more. Finding the Gaunt house was also easy. Gossip was like a sport for this town and the place where they lived came up more than once as he walked through.

He arrived outside a house that had certainly seen better days.

This would be the real test here. He knew nothing about these people. Riddle's mother had been one of them. They were parselmouths. They were descendants of Slytherin and they had little to no money. Would they care if someone claiming to be related to them showed up? Was family important to them or just blood? Being a half-blood might work against him but it was still a blood relation. Harry chewed his lip, standing outside indecisively. What would matter to people like this? And -most importantly- would they be easy to manipulate?

Never one to sit around for too long Harry marched forward and knocked at the second door that day. A man answered not long after, young enough he assumed he must be Merope's brother. The wizard stared at him. It was bit unnerving really. Something in his eyes that was a bit too wild for Harry's tastes.

"What do you want?" The man asked finally.

 _"Confundus!"_

Go big or go home, right?

Harry spoke slowly to the dazed wizard. _"You believe me to be your nephew. You trust me to look through your mind. I've always lived here._ " He waited a moment for all of that to sink in. Then he was in the mind of the other wizard. His thoughts were just as wild as his eyes. Lots of emotions draped across everyone. Here Harry planted snippets of memories from his own childhood. He would have the man believe he'd been adopted by muggles at some point and the rescued by the man before him. He would leave it up to the man to figure out how that happened as Harry could have the excuse of youth for not remember how it had happened. He stepped out of the man's mind and gave him another _confundus_ for good measure.

"You want to help me and desire to make our family respectable once more. You see me as your way to make that happen."

There that should appeal to the man's Slytherin sensibilities. If he thought he was doing it all for his own gain than out of uncharacteristic affection he would be more likely to go along with the suggestions rather than question them. Giving them thoughts similar to their own was always the easiest way to manipulate memories. Or so Snape had once ranted. Harry was sure the man hadn't ever thought his words would be listened to much less put to use in such a way. What could he say? He lived to surprise people.

Harry had done all of it in snake language as a secondary precaution. He doubted anyone would look into his new uncle's mind but if they did they wouldn't have a clue what Harry was saying. It would look like an oddly one sided conversation if anything.

That finished Harry followed his new uncle inside the house. This would not do. He stared around. His cupboard had been nicer than this and that was truly saying something. First order of business then. Get the house fixed up, set up a room for himself and get his uncle to tell him everything he needed to know about the Gaunts. If he was going to pretend to be the child of a magical family he'd need to know something about them. Harry sat at a table across from Morfin Gaunt and listened to the man rattle off the Gaunt family history. He smiled to himself. A small smile.

Doing these things didn't make him feel good. At all.

But they made him feel _better._

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2017**

* * *

 **Notes**

As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **AN:** I'm getting rather excited about this story, actually. I hope it continues to interest with you and you can bare with me until school begins. I know that's what you're all waiting for.

 **ANx2:** Anyone think they see where this may be going?

 **Next Time:** Harry returns to Hogwarts as Evan Gaunt.

 **-Pseu**

* * *

 _Yes, we are. We're losing some friends and we're changing the scenery. Truth, we find_

 _Always colorful, cutting, and cold. Oh yes, we lied. We knew you were destined for underachieving_

 _And so, tonight, means goodbye as the story was told._

 _Alice, Alice, the queen is raging. The Cheshire cat with his, smile fading_

 _We step through the looking glass now..._

 **\- Victim Effect - Alice, Alice**


	4. Red Velvet

***C*B*T*O***

* * *

 **Cake By The Ocean** **:** **Pseudonymous Entity**

* * *

"Every great story seems to begin with a snake." **-Nicolas Cage**

* * *

 **Summary:** "I killed Sirius Black." Locked in his headmaster's office after the events at the ministry, Harry discovers a collection of memories revealing the childhood of his enemy...and his own. It is what he does with the information that is interesting.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore

 **Warnings:** Unknown at this point. When I figure out if I am continuing this or not I'll fill this in.

 **AN:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **ANx2:** My mum's cat was hit Sunday. She called me and I carried her into the car and we took her to the vet. I was in the room with my mother as the pet doctor told her the cat's pelvis was fractured, her back legs were paralyzed and even if it were mended she'd be in pain the rest of her life. The cat was 'put down' in my mother's arms. She was a total wreck. **-Pseu**

 **ANx4** : Still think you're interested in where this is going?

 **Ever Yours, Pseu [The clever, magnificent and ridiculously good looking]**

* * *

 _"Endorphins start to swell now as I step up to my throne_

 _I feel the monster caged inside of me screaming through my bones_

 _I wanna see you start to sweat now, I wanna see you lose your minds_

 _Let me see you bleed. Let me hear you scream."_

 **-Beast Within**

* * *

 **Cake by the Ocean**

 **Chapter 4: Creating Evan Gaunt - part 1**

* * *

Between then and the next morning there were a lot of changes made.

Morfin, once he got into the idea of furthering his family's status, said to Hell with sleep. All the better for Harry even if he wondered if he'd created an ambitious monster. They cleaned up the house the best they could with the cleaning spells they knew which were admittedly not a whole lot. After that Morfin began digging through the clothes available in the house, seeking out the nicest ones he could find. His pseudo uncle had him put on an old fashioned tunic and pair of trousers along with a vest that had seen better days. A bored wave of his hand later and the clothes tailored themselves to fit Harry properly.

He was actually really impressed. In the future at least there weren't many people running around throwing wandless magic about _like it ain't no thang._ Madam Pince did it but she spent so much time around books it would be sort of embarrassing if she didn't know how to do it. Dumbledore as well. He'd seen Lupin do it on occasion. The only one he'd seen do it with such arrogant nonchalance was Sirius Black...and Riddle as Voldemort during his duel with Dumbledore. Something for Harry to explore while he had the chance.

In the midst of the house cleaning and wandless magic Harry learned that Morfin's mother had been from a branch of the Blacks. That explained the unnerving wildness to the wizard's eyes. It lay somewhere between Sirius and Bellatrix in terms of crazy. Not as bad as Bella but not as toned down as Sirius' for Harry to ever feeling genuinely comfortable in the other wizard's presence. Also it seemed to be somewhat genetic and Harry knew his grandmother or great-grandmother was totally a black so maybe there was hope for him after all.

This brought up a great opportunity for Harry, however. Or Evan as he should probably think of himself as lest he mess up this charade. He needed to perfect his persona before term started, which gave him a few weeks. Plenty of time. He knew he wanted to practice using some of Riddle's mannerisms, the ones he remembered, but he didn't think he could pull off being exactly like the other boy. Instead, he'd been as close as he could, like an alternate version of the teen dark lord. What would Riddle have been like growing up with the Gaunts? First on his list? Learn to mimic the wildness Morfin had about him. It would be incredibly useful to keep people off balance and distracted should he mess anything up. Keep his hair fix obviously. He definitely didn't need to be mistaken for a Potter, even if he technically totally was one.

That presented the issue of his glasses. In the end, he decided to get different frames rather than attempt to walk around without them. He didn't know if there was any way to fix his sight as he was pretty certain Hermione would have brought it up at some point so this would simply have to do. His eyes were another thing he'd use to emphasize their similarities and differences. Riddle's had striking blue eyes from what Harry remembered in his mental image of the boy and Harry knew his own green eyes were uncommon. He could use that. It would be some of the mannerisms, though, and the way he said certain things that would mess with Riddle the most.

Would Riddle try to feed him to the basilisk for sharing his face and acting like him? Harry, no Evan, wasn't sure. Actually, he didn't think the wizard had found the chamber yet. How delicious. Now he could walk around acting like he knew something others didn't -as a certain blonde often did- and he wouldn't have to fake it. He really and it was something big. He was undecided if he would ruin the hunt for the chamber for the boy or not. He'd ponder it after school started and he interacted with him.

Evan followed alongside his pseudo uncle down through the village to the perimeter. There the older wizard apparated them to Diagon alley. Morfin told him they didn't want too much magical activity around their home just yet as it was uncommon and he didn't know if anyone would bother checking out. Evan got the feeling the man knew some of what Harry had done to him but the compulsions fell so in line with the man's Slytherin ambitions that he couldn't quite tell the truth of it. Evan was fine with that as long he kept doing things that benefited _him._

Evan and Morfin made their way through the alley. This late in the evening the people that were around were the sort to keep their eyes to themselves in exchange for you doing the same. The first stop was a shop down one of the side alleys. Evan watched Morfin convince the wizard who worked there to create a certificate of birth for the family. The convincing may have involved the not so subtle implication of getting a knife to the gut if he argued. Afterward, Morfin laid a compulsion on the man to keep him from telling anyone what happened and they left. It felt good to know he wasn't the only member of the family with flexible morals. Pseudo-family. _Whatever._

Back in the main alley, the sun was set and the world of Diagon alley far different from what Evan had experienced as Harry getting school supplies. Some shops were closing while others were only now opening. Painted paper lanterns and candles in decorated glass containers lit up the alley, advertising the changeover. Walking down there amongst other cloaked shady figures, possible criminals and vampires and merlin knew what else, was incredibly exhilarating for the Gryffindor. Like traipsing through the forbidden forest only other people were doing it too and no one would tell. He was not permitted to enter any of the shops beyond those needed for their specific purpose for coming there that night. This was disappointing. Still, he had all summer to do so. And he would.

Something about doing everything he'd ever been told he _shouldn't_ was absolutely addictive.

They came up to a building Evan knew well. Rather than up the main stairs Morfin lead Evan to a side door. The older wizard knocked once, the door opened and they entered. This was pretty cool. He hadn't known there were secret entrances to the place. It was probably a pureblood thing. Wouldn't want to mingle with the poor commoners. He snickered. Morfin did all of the talking once more and this visit was shorter than he'd thought it would be. His uncle sat across from a goblin and Evan stood just behind them, watching. Morfin gave the goblin a copy of the fake certificate and told the creature he desired as the eldest remaining son of the Gaunt family, line of Slytherin, to have an heir added to the family roster and officially registered. It was a great feat of luck that this was common amongst the more traditional families to do when the potential heir reached fifteen or sixteen years of age.

The goblin didn't bat a scraggly eyelash. He took the paper, stamped it with a seal and added it to a pile looking bored all the while. Morfin was handed paperwork to sign. Once Evan was motioned forward to sign as well. That was it.

"Welcome to wizarding society Evan Gaunt." Said the goblin.

Evan gave him his best pretend smile. His uncle led him from the building some time later after setting up a vault for Evan. They apparated to Hogsmead just after dawn. A quick breakfast at a cafe kept them occupied until they determined it wasn't early enough to be rude anymore, and proceeded to make the walk toward the school for Harry's -Evan's appointment with Headmaster Dippet. He only had a few weeks to perfect his persona. May as well start now. Harry reached up a hand and ran it through his hair, pushing messy curls into not as a messy curls out of his face, exposing his forehead. He lengthened his stride without quickening it. Tilted his head down just a bit in a way that could be both deferential or shy or insecure, and good for hiding expression he couldn't control like involuntary smiles or sneers. So similar to another boy who once strode across the chamber of secrets with Harry's wand twirling between his fingers. But _this_ boy had green eyes the colour of the killing curse.

Evan Gaunt had come to Hogwarts.

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2017**

* * *

 **Notes:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **AN:** Here we go

 **ANx2:** Anyone think they see where this may be going?

 **Next Time:**

 **-Pseu**

* * *

 _"_ _...I feel the snake bite enter my veins."_

 **-Voodoo**


	5. Devil's Food

***C*B*T*O***

* * *

 **Cake By The Ocean** **:** **Pseudonymous Entity**

* * *

"Every great story seems to begin with a snake." **-Nicolas Cage**

* * *

 **Summary:** "I killed Sirius Black." Locked in his headmaster's office after the events at the ministry, Harry discovers a collection of memories revealing the childhood of his enemy...and his own. It is what he _does_ with the information that is interesting.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore

 **Warnings:** Shock. Disbelief. Denial. Bargaining. Guilt. Anger. Depression. Acceptance. Hope. **[** Tell me at least one of you sees what I did there **]**

 **AN:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **ANx2: I can't help but wonder if you lot are prepared for this story's destination. I know I look forward to it far more than I ought to, but then, I know what's coming.**

 **ANx3:** FanArt is always welcome - to the reader who asked about it. On that note, I have a -Deviant Art- account where I post images and information about the characters in the various stories I write, pureblood games and customs, and general background information. If you want in depth looks at those things or sneak peeks as coming chapters, lesson plans from Getting away with Murder, or a look at my notes and lists for characterization and world building, you can find that on my P-A-T-R-E-O-N account. If you're interested in either let me know. I quite enjoy sharing how the worlds and characters I write look through my eyes almost as much as I enjoy learning how you lot see them through yours.

 **ANx4:** For those who've asked, you'll find out what exactly Harry did while at the orphanage as the story goes along. Actually, it'll be a rare TOM POV moment when you do for certain. So there's that to look forward to.

 **Ever Yours, Pseu [The clever, magnificent and ridiculously good looking]**

* * *

 _"No, I don't apologize for taking back the life that I deserve, it's like we took a thousand pictures just to watch them burn_

 _And with every moment waisted it doesn't feel like anything was learned -_ _No, I'm not gonna hurt anymore, I've already walked through that door_

 _All of this time could've moved on, should've known better than this, and I hope it hits you right between the eyes_

 _I don't apologize."_

 **-Otherwise**

* * *

 **Cake by the Ocean**

 **Chapter 5: Creating Evan Gaunt - part 2**

* * *

Harry spent the next month carefully chiseling away at his new identity.

Curve the corner there. Sharpen that edge over here. Dull these bits and shine those. Helping out around the school and the grounds turned out to be an excellent way to figure all of this out. It was actually fun. Harry had plenty of time to consider how 'Evan Gaunt' would respond to various situations with all of the staff that had remained over the summer so spread out and no other students around. He could figure out which mannerisms of Riddle he wanted to keep, practicing in the mirror without shame. He may have stolen a few from Snape and Lucius Malfoy while he was at it.

He wanted people to look at him and immediately be reminded of Riddle even as he contracted the Slytherin.

After realizing a ton of the spellwork he knew from his own time wasn't even invented yet Evan seized upon the opportunity to be a closet prodigy. Years spent being told you were stupid and insignificant or doing your best to tone down your skills to avoid jealousy friends could easily do this to a person. It was far too tempting to not take advantage of. The staff was aware of his 'talents' but the other students would not be. As long as he answered correctly if called upon in class and did well on his tests there was really no reason for any of them to discover it either. The key here was to never actually come across as someone that dangerous. To never be taken too seriously.

At least in general, to the general public.

If his time in the wizarding world and indeed the muggle one as well had taught him anything at all it was that it was easier to get people to do what you wanted them to do or get them to let you get away with it, if they genuinely liked you or felt they owed you; and even more so if you were seemingly the weaker of the two in someway. Lucius Malfoy used this method occasionally when it suited him, in a slightly different way. Most people, of course, knew exactly whom the man was and that politically and socially he was strong enough on his own. Rather, Lucius would use his old fashioned wealth and ways to get other thinking their 'lower' talents of hard work or physical work and so on were things that were simply beyond him and it stroked said persons ego immensely to be able to provide a service for the Malfoy lord that he could not do well himself.

Evan, well Harry, had seen the younger Malfoy practice this on occasion to get the other Slytherins to so things for him that he didn't feel like doing. Who knew all that time spent watching Slytherins distrustfully whenever they entered the room would pay off so well?

Imagine if he'd really been as oblivious and naive as he acted? Good Lord if it were Colin Creevy here the kid would probably have gotten himself hauled away to an orphanage or killed somehow just from being too curious and too trusting of others. It did speak of a safe home-life which was enviable, yet in the real world that ridiculous trust wasn't a survival tool. Appearing to be, though, now that could come in useful. Evan took out a small journal and scritched down a note about it, just in case. Hey, when one was stuck in a memory with no foreseeable escape one did what one must.

He didn't even need to go out of his way to provide evidence that he was, in fact, a trustworthy, average person, he only needed other people to believe it. When someone believed something they were highly likely to resort to denial or purposeful ignorance in order to retain that belief even when it was something small or insignificant. He would, of course, have just enough instances that implied his trustworthiness around the right people, in case anyone tried to catch him out. It would matter most not what he said or did but how these individuals felt around him. Thus far the staff remaining at the school were quite taken with him. Being a soft-spoken, rarely smiling heir to an unlikely family line who was apparently ill treated at home did wonders for turning on the 'rose coloured glass' perception filter for the world. If he messed up it was always attributed to him living with those people or how those people treated him or never being around other people much or adjusting to a new situation. Extraordinary. Evan would have to have Harry employ this when they returned.

He'd have tried to use this to his advantage ages ago if he'd known. As the Boy Who Lived who on earth had a more tragic backstory that literally everyone knew straight out? Merlin that could have been useful first year. Alas.

Practice made perfect though, and he needed to give it everything he had to make this work.

This came with the decision to be Evan St James at first rather than Evan Gaunt. He'd had a talk with his uncle and then the two of them had talked with Dippet and all were in agreement that it would be best for him to acclimate before introducing himself properly. For Harry, it made it even more fun for him. If anyone went looking for information on him because he slipped up with the past/future stuff, they'd find out he was a Gaunt and he was pretty sure that'd derail their research. Apparently, no Gaunts had attended a formal school in two generations, preferring to homeschool entirely. Reclusive. Withdrawn from society. No one had known there even was a young Gaunt of school age. Technically that'd be Riddle and not him but hey, whatever. It would be highly entertaining playing the likable muggleborn for a bit and then see their faces when they found out he was "as pure as it gets".

Evan fully expected Riddle to be the first to figure it out unless Dumbledore beat him to it.

Speaking of his old headmaster, Dumbledore was nowhere to be found. He was not among the staff that stayed at the school all year round. This worked wonderfully for Harry -Evan- who didn't know what Dumbledore's observation skills were like in this time but he'd known enough to suspect Riddle back when the chamber stuff was actually happening the first time around even if he hadn't caught him or been able to prevent Hagrid's expulsion he'd always somehow known it was Riddle who'd done it. Thus he was the last person Harry needed twinkling around until he got his 'act' together.

The main thing was getting to walk around for intents and purposes wearing Riddle's nearly identical face and doing things Riddle would never do. Bound to embarrass [re: dangerously irritate the crap out of] the dark lord wannabe. And run Dumbledore ragged besides.

When he wasn't busily shaping the opinions of the adults around him and pretending to be someone he wasn't, Harry was in the company of Morfin Gaunt. Although the wizard only knew enough to know all was not as it seemed, Harry felt a keen relief to be around someone he didn't have to be one hundred percent perfect around. The wizard couldn't tell anyone, for one, and he was more intuitive about what Harry needed which definitely suited him. Harry -Evan- made it clear he wouldn't be staying in the Gaunt's run down home, no amount of cleaning spells could convince him otherwise. Guided by Harry's compulsions Morfin brought his nephew with hi to search out an alternative living space, mostly because it fell in line with his self-serving wish to restore the family's honour. Or at least that was the ambition Harry had given him.

They decided upon an unlikely location. On a whim really. It was an abandoned casino near the Black Sea. Perfect to Harry's eyes after Morfin took the time to explain his choice. They worked together to set the necessary spellwork to keep muggles from getting to close, Morfin demonstrating and correcting as necessary as Harry learned them and hey went along. They removed dust and dirt and miscellaneous unwanted items from the building and its many rooms. Windows were repaired, carpets cleaned, floor polished. With the amount of left behind furniture, they found Morfin was able to furnish the entire building using repairing and duplicating spells and a bit of transfiguration. Again almost entirely without any wandwork.

Seeing his pseudo-nephew watch his progress with interest, he surprised Harry by instructing 'Evan' on how to do so himself. If Harry slowly found himself re-engineering pieces of his Evan persona to fit in with Morfin's personality it was only because he couldn't help himself after getting to know his pseudo-uncle better. And if that same uncle slowed down a bit or prolonged an action or repeated so Harry got a better look at it, well, no need to acknowledge it aloud. His new uncle was proving a great role model for his less than noble new identity. Who'd have thunk it?

After setting it up the best they could Morfin installed secret floor length mirrors, one at the casino -now their home- and one at the Gaunt residence. They couldn't do away with the place altogether simply because the villagers had known them to be there for so long and because neither of them wanted Marvolo to know what they were up to. Harry had not, even as Evan, actually met the man properly. Seeing him in passing mostly and always while with Morfin, who kept a hand firmly on his shoulder and placed himself just a bit between the two of them. If Morfin thought Marvolo was bad news than harry and Evan both were glad to avoid him.

On the bright side, he made Evan's sob story of a poor home life one less thing to lie about and being able to deceive people while telling the truth was the easiest way to get away with it. His relatives -the real ones- could almost always tell when Harry was lying and yet almost always believed him if he decided them using the truth and that truth didn't make them look bad or terribly inconvenience them.

His upbringing was actually great practice for all of this.

The mirrors were enchanted to send an object -in this case, Evan and Morfin- through one and to the other. Morfin explained it was an altered vanishing charm really and easy enough to do if you knew what you were doing and didn't worry about supposedly not being able to do that with living things. They simply 'vanished' to a preordained location. Both mirrors, the ones at the casino and the one at the Gaunt shack were disguised by matching portraits spelled to keep eyes off of them. It really was a good thing Morfin hadn't known occlumancy and Harry had thought to add compulsions or else he was certain he'd be buried out in the Gaunt's yard somewhere. The man was clever as Hell.

Finally, the day before the start of term arrived. It was spent once again in Morfin's company, after his work at the school was completed and he received his earnings, most of which he paid for a room somewhere in the castle though now it was mostly to keep up with the appearance he'd given to the staff, and the rest they put to use getting Evan tailored school uniforms and after class clothing. He may be coming in with a muggleborn name but he was 'Evan Gaunt' in disguise and this character he'd created would delight in them wondering how poor muggleborn 'Evan Saint James" afforded such clothing.

Evan was not attending as a regular student at this point. With his prodigious skills -however, attained- came delightful consequences. He would be utilized mostly as a teaching assistant and sit in on classes that interested him, spending his actual educational time during the evenings and on the weekends with self-study and assigned work from the various professors. When he was not doing any extra work required of him.

Thus he would forgo the Hogwarts Train and instead aparate to the school with his uncle, helping with preparations for the incoming students and -to his wicked excitement- would be seated near Dippet at the staff table, since he technically was a part of them. Managing to convince them all he was just a very small seventeen-year-old -with the assistance of his uncle- helped this along. Not too much of a lie really, he was a little over sixteen or would be in his own time and he'd always been small for his age so acting a little embarrassed by the admission was less acting and more habit.

Evan, for he was Evan now, walked calmly beside Headmaster Dippet, waiting, watching, for the doors to open and a very specific fifth year to arrive. It was time to put all of his hard work into use, time to see if he could pull this off, time to seriously mess with Riddle and Dumbledore, time to take them both down a peg or two.

He could hardly wait.

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2017**

* * *

 **Notes:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **AN:** Ya'll ready for this? Is Hogwarts ready for this?

 **Next Time:** Houses, Dumbledore, The Prefect, Plans Change

 **-Pseu**

* * *

"You knew damn well I was a snake before you took me in."

 **-The Snake**


	6. Spice

***C*B*T*O***

* * *

 **Cake By The Ocean** **:** **Pseudonymous Entity**

* * *

"Every great story seems to begin with a snake." **-Nicolas Cage**

* * *

 **Summary:** "I killed Sirius Black." Locked in his headmaster's office after the events at the ministry, Harry discovers a collection of memories revealing the childhood of his enemy...and his own. It is what he _does_ with the information that is interesting.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore

 **Warnings:** Shock. Disbelief. Denial. Bargaining. Guilt. Anger. Depression. Acceptance. Hope. **[** Can anyone guess why I chose these? **]**

 **AN:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **ANx2:** I'll admit it. I have been waiting for us to get this far. Don't worry, Evan won't have it all easy just because he got lucky-ish with a few _obliviations_ and has a plan. This is Tom Riddle and Dumbledore we're talking about after all. Easy wouldn't be any fun.

 **ANx3:** A little, teeny bit of foreshadowing in here for those of you that catch it

 **Ever Yours, Pseu [The clever, magnificent and ridiculously good looking]**

* * *

 _"So they came into the outway, it was Sunday, What a black day_

 _Mouth to mouth resuscitation, sounding heartbeats_

 _Intimidation_

 _You've been hit by, you were struck by - A smooth criminal."_

 **-Michael Jackson**

* * *

 **Cake by the Ocean**

 **Chapter 6**

* * *

Evan found Armando Dippet to be quite entertaining.

He spoke in low tones to Evan as the great hall filled, giving him summarizations of the various students he spied and the staff he hadn't managed to meet yet. Never anything properly insulting but nor was it strictly necessary commentary. Evan did his very best to act as though they discussed nothing more interesting than the weather or the meal to come, all the while strategically lifting his water goblet to hid his almost smiles, and near laughs. Dippet took this as a challenge it seemed for he searched out further ridiculousness to share with him with great glee carefully hidden under a neutral-ish pleasant expression.

They spent most of the evening discussing random things, the sorting passing by at some point with little interest from either wizard. Evan's only distractions were his attempts to spy on Riddle. The boy was easily seen, seated to the right of the Slytherin table with his back to the wall. None of the other students were too close to him and the majority of the house left a good five feet space between themselves and the fifth year. Frightening people already Tom?

He saw Dumbledore briefly. Part of his duties as Deputy was to bring in the first years and conduct the sorting. It was very odd indeed to see him -with auburn hair no less- doing so rather than the strict form of Harry's previous head of house. Or future head? The food was as good as it always was and the uniforms were just the same as well. The changes that were significant were only so to Evan. That was a lonely, sobering thought so he pushed it aside nearly the moment he thought it. He didn't have time for that. Harry could have an angst-filled summer of despair when he was back in his own time.

Right now he was Evan and he had other things to focus on.

As the meal came to a close Dippet motioned for Evan to follow him, his nails glistening like the silverware in the candlelight. Evan glanced down at his own shiny nails, having finally relented to Armando's attempts at getting him to perform better nail hygiene. Privately Harry called it narcissism. He had to admit, though, his hands had never looked sexier.

Evan walked alongside his new favourite person, the halls behind them filling with the sounds of students who'd spent months apart. Evan assumed he would be lead to his room since he'd yet to visit it and thus was surprised when the headmaster brought him to his office instead. Was he in some sort of trouble, had he changed his mind about their arrangement? Evan couldn't think of anything he could have done to offend the older wizard. He decided to wait until he had more information before he started thinking up plausible excuses or alibis. Dippet turned and sat on his desk which brought a smile to Evan's lips.

"I did notice your eyes straying to the Slytherin table during the feast, Evan. Do you wish you had chosen to be a part of a house rather than taken on your current schedule?"

Evan shook his head. "No sir, I am quite happy with our arrangement so far."

The dark haired wizard needed as if he hadn't expected any other reply. "I see. Perhaps there was someone in particular you were hoping to see?" Dippet paused and his eyes looked away for a moment as they did when he felt guilt about something. "I would like to ask for your forgiveness Evan."

"What did you do?" He asked, careful to keep his tone polite.

"I made a discreet inquiry. Young Tom Riddle, who was seated at Slytherin's house table this evening, is about your age. His mother was a Gaunt by birth." There he stopped, letting the information and its possible insinuations hang in the air. "You are related." Obviously. "Does he know?"

"No sir."

Dippet figured it out first? Really? It was good thing Harry had no one other than Evan to bet on the outcome with, and Evan hardly counted as they were the same person. Still, it hadn't ever occurred to him that Dippet would figure it out first, or even at all. Armando studied Evan, then let him go without further questioning. Evan was grateful for the headmaster's respect of his privacy. He hadn't thought of a lie for Dippet, not for this at least. Evan would of course remedy that tonight. He would have to be a bit more prepared it would seem.

The inky haired wizard was pulled from his thoughts by a rough hand on his shoulder spinning him around. Alarmed Evan brought up his own hands to show they were empty. He met the confused face of one Albus Dumbledore. "I...I do apologize young man. I had thought you another student."

Evan stared at his previous headmaster. What the ever living Hell? He could totally understand mistaking him for Riddle, that was sort of the entire point, what he did _not_ understand is what could possibly make the man think it was acceptable to put his hands on a student, let alone so roughly. Even if it was a future dark lord. Evan pulled back from the man's grip and took a step back for good measure. Evan reminded himself he was Harry Potter no longer and he could not blow up at the man as he wished to do and certainly not on behalf of a student he'd apparently never met. Instead, he widened his eyes and tilted his head down.

"No problem Dumbledore, I've gotten that a lot recently."

The auburn haired wizard appeared surprised. "You know me but I must confess I do not know you."

Evan raised his chin a bit to meet his old headmaster's eyes -seemingly, he looked between them for safety- somewhat meekly. "Fitting, we haven't properly met. I'm Evan Saint James, teacher's assistant extraordinaire. You are Albus Dumbledore, current teacher of Transfiguration."

Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, a junior member of staff then. When did you come on?"

"Over the summer." Evan felt no need to elaborate. If Dippet hadn't told him about Evan then he certainly wasn't going to bother with it. It wasn't the other wizard's business really. Here Evan was an adult, seventeen, and he didn't have to say anything to Dumbledore if he didn't want to. "If you'll excuse me I'm off to find my rooms. This will be my first official night staying here, you see. I'd like to get some sleep before I have to act my age." He gave him a mischievious grin, one he'd seen Padfoot use on occasion.

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. I need to make preparations for tomorrow myself. Temporary quarters and guest quarters just off the main staircase on the main floor, if you didn't know already. Have a good night."

"Good night."

That certainly wasn't how he imagined meeting his former headmaster. Evan pulled up his hood, deciding he'd had enough of being manhandled for one night. There was time enough to show off his Riddle-ishness tomorrow. With witnesses. Evan grimaced and rolled his shoulder. He did hope the man didn't honestly get so physical with his students. It was a different time he supposed, still, that was a bit extreme to his tastes. Unfortunately Evan was rather docile and reserved so far and wasn't sure he could get away with hexing the man yet, should he 'mistake' him again. He would have to devise a way to come out of his shell a bit or find some other way to insure it didn't happen again. Even if it didn't mean anything he didn't like it.

And that was about the time he rain directly into someone else. With a startled OOMPH Evan fell backward and smacked into the floor. He winced, pain shooting up his left arm to meet his already sore shoulder. This really wasn't his night so far. A long fingered hand came into view. Evan stared at it before realizing whomever he'd run into probably was attempting to help him to his feet. He grabbed the hand and allowed them to do so.

"I'm sorry I wasn't watching where I was going..." Evan trailed off as he met the eyes of Tom Riddle. Dark blue orbs narrowed and a hand snapped out to grasp his chin faster than he could react to. Evan was pushed back against the wall and held very still, remembering all at once that this was the fifteen-year-old who murdered another student and released the basilisk within the halls.

"See something you like?" Evan asked mildly.

Riddle seemed to realize what he was doing was not socially acceptable. Evan blamed Dumbledore for being a bad influence on matters of personal space. His chin was released. Riddle took a step back.

"My apologies."

"I'm getting a lot of that tonight." Evan mused.

Riddle stood there, perhaps waiting for Evan to explain further. Instead, he changed the topic. "We do look something alike don't we?" He walked in a quick circle around the mini dark lord. "Uncanny. Perhaps we're related. What is your name?" Riddle didn't exactly stiffen but his general stature seemed somehow harder at the question. He turned and started walking down the hall.

"I am afraid I am what they call a muggleborn. It is unlikely we are related."

Evan walked backward beside the other boy to keep eye contact. Riddle raised a brow but didn't try to hex him or anything so Evan counted that as a win. "Excellent, everyone calls me that as well. Saint James isn't a wizarding name." He gave a what-can-you-do gesture, smiling cheerily.

"Wall." Said Riddle.

Evan moved to the left and continued backward. "Thanks."

He was pretty certain if they didn't look so much alike Riddle would have found some way to get rid of him by now. Instead, the Slytherin seemed conflicted. Curious no doubt about the strange wizard that shared his face. Evan was about to start another line of conversation when they were interrupted.

"There you are, Riddle. I'll expect you early tomorrow so we can confirm our schedules. I don't want to be doing end of night shifts if I can help it, I have quidditch practice this year."

"That is suitable Mulciber," Riddle said, almost bored.

Evan tilted his head to the side to see whom they were walking toward. Riddle rolled his eyes, grasping Evan's arm lightly and turning him forward. Evan shot him a grin over his shoulder. Two Slytherins about Riddle's age stood there. One with straight brown hair and the other shorter with gray hooded eyes. They looked between Evan and Riddle as the two came to a stop before them.

"I wasn't aware you had a cousin."

Evan leaned toward Riddle and stage whispered. "When I mentioned being related earlier I did not know you held the powers of altering reality. Might I request a million galleons, and wine raining from the heavens while I am in your good graces?"

Riddle's lips twitched. He raised a hand and coughed, averting his eyes.

"What's that mean then?" Asked the brown haired wizard.

The shorter, gray eyed wizard tilted his head. "I think he's making fun of you."

"If I was," Said Evan, "Then I am horrible at it and should resolve not to brother in the future since neither of you seems to know what I said. Perhaps my mastery of the English language leaves much to be desired."

Riddle glanced at him sideways. "Perhaps _you_ leave a lot to be desired." He suggested dryly.

Evan noticed Riddles' hand clenched at his side, the end of his wand just visible beneath his sleeve. Was he concerned about these two then? Evan wondered if they gave him a hard time for his blood status. He was in Slytherin after all and Evan was getting the impression this was before they all knew he was the heir of their house founder and started falling over themselves to earn his favour. He probably kept his nice guy mask up with them as well, still. Which was a pity.

Evan had no such problem. He placed a hand on his chest, ignoring their audience. "You wound me."

Exasperated and somewhat bemused the two other Slytherins decided to leave them to their odd conversation. "I'll be seeing you, Riddle." The one whom Evan guessed to be Mulciber murmured as they passed, knocking his shoulder against Riddle's. Evan turned and shot a glare at their backs, Harry a bit uncomfortable at the amount of irrational possessiveness curling in his stomach. Riddle wasn't his toy after all. He smiled internally, though it would be worth it see the mini dark lord's expression should ever say as much aloud.

The back of his head was smacked. "Idiot."

"What was that for?" He rubbed at his head though it didn't hurt really.

"Try to think before you speak. You didn't even bother to learn who they were before you started mouthing off." Offering advice to the poor new student? How uncharacteristic of you Riddle.

"But where's the fun in that?" Evan demanded, once again walking along side him. Riddle didn't appear to know what to make of Evan. He made no move to get Evan away from him, nor did he do anything to encourage his presence. After several side long looks he gave a long suffering sigh.

"Have I, for an unfathomable reason, acquired an unwanted pet?"

"Why do you ask?" Evan was sure to keep a bright smile on his face as it seemed to irritate Riddle.

"You're following along like a stray in search of a home," Riddle explained, voice low and almost drawling. Far more interesting than the polite and almost subservient boy he'd pretended to be not moments ago, in Evan's opinion. It was such a shame he couldn't be more like the boy from the diary. He was sort of expecting to playing with him, not this...whatever he was pretending to be. His golden boy mask wasn't going to be any fun. Evan added 'getting Riddle out of his shell' to the top of his to do list. If he was going to do this he was going to do this right, which meant beating Riddle at his own game while he was honestly playing his best. Otherwise there just wasn't any point.

"I happen to be headed to my rooms." He corrected.

They just so happened to lay in the same direction the Slytherin was headed. A happy accident. Also far more convenient than following him around and then having to find his way back without running into the far too physical Transfiguration professor. Riddle paused.

"Your rooms?"

Evan nodded, actually bothering to look for them now that they were there. It hadn't occurred to him that Riddle would have a room in this area as well. He couldn't blame him, Evan wouldn't go back to that Orphanage if he could help it either. They walked together looking for the room number matching the keys they were given, which were more for ceremony than anything as they'd both be adding locking charms. Evan assumed anyway as he certainly would. Keys wouldn't do much a castle full of magic after all.

"Here it is." Evan stopped to unlock his room. He didn't have anything to bring with him apart from some clothes as he intended to use the floo connection to go to the casino whenever he felt like it. He needed the room, though. His home life was supposed to suck so looking eager to go back might raise a few brows. Behind him, Riddle groaned.

"Something the matter?"

Riddle stood across the hall in front of another door, his long fingers rubbing circles on his temples. Poor dear. It was like something was upsetting the natural order of his life. Darn it. "It would seem we are neighbors."

"Fortunate." Evan pushed his door open but made no move to go inside, leaning against the doorway and watching the other boy.

"Right. Let's call it that." Riddle muttered.

Evan's lips pulled upward. "You don't like me?" His voice filled with fake hurt.

"I find you annoyingly cheerful." The pointed hint to his tone was willfully ignored.

"See ya tomorrow Tommy." That was a nickname a family member might give, right? He didn't have the best experience with family to be certain but it had sounded right in his head so he ran with it.

Riddle twirled around, spluttering. "You dare such familiarity?"

"We share the same face," Evan shrugged, "What familiarity is left really?" He turned to enter his room. Long fingers curled around his shoulder, keeping him in place. Evan stiffened at the feel of the wizard close to his back.

"Hold on," Riddle murmured against his ear. "You know my name. My whole name. I don't recall _giving_ it to you." Evan forced himself to sag lazily, as if he wasn't the least concerned. He could almost Riddle's frown in response.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. Prefect. Fifteen. Good at Defense."

He felt Riddle nod to himself. "That's a yes then. You knew me."

Evan tilted his head up to catch the eyes of his would-be interrogator. "I could hardly walk three feet here all summer without someone stopping me to tell me how much I reminded them of that ' _polite and clever Riddle boy_ ' and ' _oh he's got such a mind_ ', have you met him yet? He's brilliant."

Riddle's cheeks flushed to Evan's amusement. Mildly embarrassed. "They didn't."

"What?" Evan asked innocently. "Sing your praises to me the entire summer? Yes. They did." The Slytherin took a step back. Evan turned to look at him properly.

"Is this why you've made it your mission to stalk and annoy me? Revenge?"

Evan stuffed his hands in his pockets, faux sulking. "I hardly stalked you."

"Another yes then." Riddle guessed. It was as close to the truth as he was likely to get. Evan didn't confirm or deny it. "Who even are you? Do you make it a habit to know others without revealing yourself?"

"A lot recently." He said honestly. "Have you discovered nothing about me in the precious moments we've spent together?"

Riddle made a face. "You're new, but that's obvious. You hurt yourself some time recently, you winced when you fell. You braced yourself with your arms then so I'm going to guess it was either your shoulders or your wrist. You kept your hood up before it fell off when we collided. I know because your hand half lifted to see if it was there when your realized I could see your face. You didn't try to get me off of you -and I do apologize for that I don't know what came over me- when I got a better look at you. Perhaps you expected such a reaction? Though how is a mystery as we've never met to my knowledge. You did say you were told about me this summer and implied you were at the castle often. I would hazard the relative of a staff member or a day student who managed to convince someone to let them work off their debts in the summer. A late applicant? And you readily explain your blood status so you must have known or guessed mine and thought you knew enough about me to know I wouldn't mock or ignore you for it."

"You missed something vitally important," Evan said, as seriously as he could manage.

Riddle tilted his head, eyes narrowed. "What was that?"

"My name. It's Evan."

Riddle snorted, gave him a sarcastic bow and left to his room. "See you tomorrow Little Evan.

He scoffed. Evan entered his own feeling rather good about the entire affair regardless of Dumbledore's earlier accosting until he realized Riddle had managed to learn a good part of Evan's fictional life story without revealing anything about himself Harry didn't already know. That amount of observation in so short a time, especially when he appeared to be trying to ignore him for the most part, was startling.

Evan blinked. "Well shit."

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2017**

* * *

 **Notes:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **AN:** Everyone has met everyone else. Any guesses on first impressions? Also, something fairly important happened. Did you spot it?

 **ANx2:** I don't get to write Tom often. It's a _blast._

 **Next Time:** Classes, Unwanted Pets, Not Playing Well with Others

 **-Pseu**

* * *

 _"This is the end, hold your breath and count to ten, feel the earth move and then..._ _worlds collide and days are dark...l_ _et the sky fall."_

 **-Skyfall**


	7. Lemon

***C*B*T*O***

* * *

 **Cake By The Ocean** **:** **Pseudonymous Entity**

* * *

"Every great story seems to begin with a snake." **-Nicolas Cage**

* * *

 **Summary:** Locked in his headmaster's office after the events at the ministry, Harry discovers a collection of memories revealing the childhood of his enemy...and his own. It is what he _does_ with the information that is interesting.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore, Morfin Gaunt

 **Warnings:** Shock. Disbelief. Denial. Bargaining. Guilt. Anger. Depression. Acceptance. Hope. **[Only one of you knew what they were and none of you guessed their significance.]**

 **AN:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **ANx2:**

 **Ever Yours, Pseu [The clever, magnificent and ridiculously good looking]**

* * *

 _"In a society where the roles everyone plays are obvious,_ _The refusal to conform to any standard will excite interest_

 _Be both masculine and feminine, i_ _mpudent and charming, subtle and outrageous_

 _Let other people worry about being socially acceptable; those types are a dime a dozen_

 _And you are after a power greater than they can imagine."_

 **\- Robert Greene**

* * *

 **Cake by the Ocean**

 **Chapter 7**

* * *

Slow, steady fingers straightened the non-regulation bow-tie.

What a rebel.

Satisfied with its positioning, those same fingers smoothed down the long vest worn over a standard white button-up shirt. The rest of the uniform was what one might expect, black slacks and black shoes shined to reflect the world around them. Viridian eyes flickered over the reflection in the mirror. Just as slowly, determinedly, those fingers rose as shoulders below them dropped into a relaxed pose, running through the mess of curls above those eyes, pushing the hair back and down away from his face. He allowed himself to give a small smile, tilting his head while his other hand twirled his wand flippantly.

Perfect really.

Evan reached for his bag, slinging it over his left shoulder and shoved is hands into his pockets. Outside the door, he met the annoyed gaze -though the look was quickly covered with a stiff politeness- of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Dark blue eyes stilled, glancing over Evan in a brief flicker of confusion.

"Good _morning_ neighbor."

Evan didn't bother removing one of his hands to wave, instead giving the other wizard his best pretend smile. To his satisfaction, Riddle snapped out of his calculations to snort at him. It was good to know the other boy could see through it. He had half worried that he'd been stuck in his perfect student model too long. As they walked toward the great hall in silence Evan felt those eyes land on him periodically. They locked on his stance, the way he walked, his slow purposeful strides that were just a notch above lazy. At the tilt of his head, at his own eyes surveying the corridor calmly.

Internally Evan grinned.

Tom Riddle wasn't the only person making observations about the world about him. Evan's may not be as small or intricate and impressive, but they provided an opportunity. He was all about those lately. Number one being that Riddle was stuck in his model student persona even to the other snakes. At first, Evan had assumed there was something going on in the background in some fashion from the space left between the miniature dark lord and the rest of the students the night before at dinner. After the encounter with Mulciber and the as of yet unnamed other wizard, Evan suspected that Riddle received a blatantly grudging respect from the other students due to his intellect and now his status as a prefect. Though this was not enough for them to forgive him his blood status and lack of wealth, or for them to refrain from ensuring he was well aware of his place with Slytherin house.

Tom Riddle was not free to act as he had in the Chamber of Secrets in Harry's second year. He couldn't be that person yet. Along the same path lay Albus Dumbledore. From their oh so brief and slightly alarming first interaction Evan could see that the man did not yet have his flighty, trustworthy persona in effect, his robes were not whimsical and he lacked his eccentricities. No lemon drops or odd phrasing to be found. No irritatingly cheerful omniscient presence.

Summarized; Tome Riddle could not act like his true manipulative genius self, he had a persona to uphold. Dumbledore could not act like a charming eccentric genius, he had his own reputation to uphold.

Evan Gaunt had _no_ such limitations to apply to himself. He would have to of course remain somewhat quieter and more reserved around the staff as they'd come to expect it from him, however, wouldn't they be oh so pleased if he started to break out of his shell? The fact was this, he was free to add in eccentricities and mannerisms and really whatever he wanted from their alternative selves that he fancied, and neither could do a thing about it. It would be -and was- especially delightful to do so regarding Riddle. The boy no doubt recognized his own personality traits. What could he do to prevent Evan acting thus? Nothing! Not without revealing his personality was faked. He glanced at Riddle beneath his lashes. Evan could practically feel the curiosity steaming off the wizard beside him. Who was this stranger who looked and acted like him?

A wizard determined to disrupt his life.

On their journey to breakfast more than one student did a double take a Riddle and his slightly smaller look-a-like striding through the halls. With Evan's efforts, they managed to walk in sync the entire way, no matter if Riddle sped up or slowed down- which did experimentally after he noticed it- they stayed in sync. He thought he saw Riddle's lips twitch upward once. Whether he'd caught on to Evan's intent to make it so or was amused by the looks they received Evan wasn't sure.

They parted from one another in the entrance Hall. Evan leaving to use the staff door near the high table. Why push through the mass of students only to have to cross the whole hall anyway? His spot beside Armando Dippet -which appeared to now be an everyday thing- was waiting for him. He pulled his seat back and tossed his back underneath it, his feet wrapping around the legs of the chair. Once more Dippet regaled him with information about the students and the other staff members. The ones Evan hadn't met yet looked over at him curiously from their seats at the high table, none of them as subtle as they might like to think.

A rather rounded man with many wrinkles about his eyes decided to forsake pretending not to be looking at Evan and instead stood from his seat and walked over to them. "Hello, hello. And who is this Armando? Looks quite a lot like one of my Slytherins." The man paused. "Looks a bit like you as well, doesn't he?"

Armando and Evan surveyed one another, amusement hidden between neutral faces. They did both have dark hair and -if fairly recently- matching shiny nails. No doubt the man had seen their familiarity at dinner the previous night as well. Neither of them confirmed or denied this. Evan because it was fun to mess with people and well who _knew_ why Armando did the things he did? Evan thought secretly the man was quite mischievous.

"This is Evan Saint James. Evan this is professor Slughorn, he teaches our potions class and is head of the Slytherin House. Horace, Evan here is our newest member of staff. An assistant teacher if you will, he'll be filling in as needed amongst the classes and is available to help out with demonstrations and grading, watching over detentions and the like. You'll want to be quick about it if you need him I imagine, he impressed the rest of us over the summer and I fear blood may be shed over our dear Evan."

He ducked his head as if embarrassed. The Harry side of him had never been complimented thus, and 'Evan' hadn't prepared for such blunt praise but enjoyed it thoroughly. The staff that knew him from the summer laughed at the interaction. He couldn't see him from here but Evan knew Dumbledore would be watching as well. What did he make of Evan, he wondered.

Slughorn gave him a once over. "An assistant? Are you any good with potions?"

Evan thought it over. He wasn't the best but he'd managed to pass every end of year test for it in his own time and it seemed reasonable to assume just as there were many spells he knew that weren't around yet he may know something about potions that wasn't known yet he went ahead and nodded cautiously.

"I'm no prodigy." He murmured.

The man laughed loudly, patting Evan's shoulder with a large hand. "Modest as well. I'll have to get you assigned to a class of mine so I can see what you can do, yes? You are a bit young, have you completed your N.E.W.T.S early?" Evan frowned internally. He really didn't want the man to expect too much from him. He knew things they didn't but if they poked too hard they'd see his supposed genius wasn't at all well rounded and it would only take an actual great mind like Riddle to show he wasn't anything extraordinary. He didn't get a chance to tone down the man's expectations.

"Evan is taking self-study and privately assigned classwork after his duties," Armando explained. "We thought of letting him take the seventh year course but we feared he'd be too bored."

"Nonsense." Evan demurred. "I would look forward to anything Hogwarts had to teach me."

The Herbology professor, a thin man with short brown hair, leaned around the headmaster's other side. "And yet, you have managed to teach us a thing or too, have you not?"

Armando's smile broadened as Evan hurriedly swallowed some water from his goblet as if looking for an excuse to look away. It was convenient for them to have become as fond of him as to feel comfortable teasing him. Still, the only adult to really do so with him was Sirius. He didn't want to think about Sirius. So he pretended similar ease.

According to the schedule he was given, Evan was assisting with Defense today and tomorrow. Today it was the first, third and fifth years. Tomorrow the second and seventh years, both of whom had double Defense that day. Sixth years the following day in the afternoon. Professor Merrythought, one of the eldest professors on staff, approached him just as he was preparing to leave. She had short curls with gray streaking through nearly half, narrow set eyes and a rather washed out looking wardrobe.

"Evan?" She gave him a quick, polite smile. "I was wondering if you might take the first years for me? I'm running late on grading the summer course work. Some of my students' handwriting is indecipherable."

He blinked. "Really? Are you...sure that is wise?"

She waved a hand. "Talk about the meaning of defense, the course aims and name off some Defensive terminology. Entertain them. It's their first day and they won't hit a practical for another two weeks. Their assigned reading is on my desk." With that, she left without waiting for a confirmation.

Guess he was teaching some first years. Amused, and a little wary, Evan left. He knew where the defense room was. Spending a month at the school helped to get him well acquainted with the necessary locations. Most of them hadn't moved of course, but he'd let them show him around anyway. None of the students were there upon his arrival. With a shrug Evan opened the door and flicked his wand to open the curtains, filling the room with light. The teacher's chair was just as comfortable as he'd imagined they would be. Why they got cushioned chairs and the students got uncomfortable ones he didn't know. To encourage them to pay attention maybe?

There was an outline of assigned reading on the desk where Professor Merrythought said it would be. He flipped through it with little interest. He already knew the defense classes now were nothing after his year of teaching the D.A. He was more worried about accidentally showing off then messing up. Defense was his subject. Five minutes later and bored out of his mind Evan propped his feet on the desk, leaned back in the chair and started a game of hangman with himself on the ceiling, using his wand to mark out letters. Eventually, he heard murmuring outside the door.

Evan turned his head. "That door closes in five minutes when the bell rings and I _shan't_ be opening it."

The first years stumbled in, darting to desks. He had Slytherin and Gryffindor first. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff next. Evan pursed his lips. Did she expect to do them both? May as well assume so he supposed. When they were all seated he swished his wand and erased his game. Evan swung his feet from the desk and sat up to look them over. "Welcome to Defense." They quieted immediately. It was sort of cool. Being listened to like this.

Evan stood and flicked his wand at the board behind him. "I, am Evan St. James. I am a teaching assistant and I fill in where I am needed. Today I'll be your defense instructor. It says in the instructions I'm supposed to take attendance. Well, are we missing anybody?" The students exchanged glances with the person they were seated next to.

"...I think we're all here." Said a Gryffindor near the front.

Evan clapped his hands. "Excellent. Who can tell me what you think Defense class is about?"

And so it went. He encouraged them to discuss just what Defense meant, what counted at Defense and what sort of things they'd like to learn. Evan wrote down the different things they brought up. The next time he taught them he'd bring it with him and quiz them to see if any of them had taken the initiative to look the subjects up. Half an hour went by and he realized he had another forty-five minutes to kill. Evan hummed to himself. Well, the professor had said to entertain them.

"Alright, we're going to do a survival exercise. You have five minutes to get into groups of two or three, or to choose to act alone. Go."

They scrambled to get with their teams.

"Good." He quickly wrote down some items in a piece of parchment, tapped it with his wand and made duplicates. "You." He pointed at the Gryffindor who'd spoke earlier. The boy gave a bit of a squeak and pointed at himself. "Yeah, you. Come hand these out to the teams will you?"

Once everyone had their parchment he transfigured an inkwell on the desk into an hourglass. Not as good as Morfin could have done it but being around the wizard had greatly improved Evan's transfiguration skills. "You have until this hourglass is half gone to retrieve the items on your list -or as many as you can- and return here. The first team to do so with gets a free passing grade on any one assignment between now and the winter holidays, as long as its a class I'm teaching." Excited murmuring.

"Ready set go." They ran out the door like a herd of bloodthirsty wildebeest. Evan actually didn't have a clue what a wildebeest was and whether it could be bloodthirsty. With that, Evan took back his chair and resumed his game of hangman. The game ended up being a grand success. When all of the teams returned Evan had them spend the remaining fifteen minutes of class time discussing whether it worked out better for them to work in a team or alone and how their choice of teammate/s affected how well they performed the required tasks. Evan decided to do the exact same thing with the next set of first years. Why mess with a good thing?

Professor Merrythought reappeared just before the start of his first set of third years. While she went over their summer work and the course aims for the year Evan handed out paperwork and gave input when asked for it, displaying various spellwork as requested. Much the same for the next class. Then it was lunch and was he ready for it. He really could only take so much naiveté. They were all so sickeningly innocent. Had Harry ever looked like that? He really hoped not.

For a third-year defense class, they'd all looked appallingly fragile to Evan's mind. Of course, most third years hadn't already survived the dark lord, a troll and a basilisk at this point nor were they hyper aware of a murderer out for their blood. Merlin was his childhood screwed up.

Lunch was an easy affair. Professor Merrythought assured Armando that Evan had done well and she applauded his choice for the first year class, calling him innovative. Part way through she was called out by a Ravenclaw prefect who looked close to tears. It was then Evan remembered she was also the head of Ravenclaw. He didn't envy her that, it was a lot of paperwork. The professor stopped at his chair as she followed the distraught teenager.

"Mind starting the first fifth year without me? Just do what you did for the first years." And she was gone.

Evan huffed.

Beside him Armando and Benedict -the Herbology professor- smothered laughs. Evan gave them an exasperated glare that quickly morphed into a small smile. They both stopped laughing. "Evan?"

He gave them a wave and set off before they could question him. Evan made his way through the hall rather than taking the side door this time. Defense was closer this way if he hit the main staircase instead of going around. Looking around he spotted a familiar dark haired Slytherin. Evan strode forward and cut in front of the other wizard as he got on one of the moving staircases. Evan turned around and gave him a wave.

Riddle's eye twitched. "I'd make a quip about getting you a collar but it seems no one could mistake to whom you belonged."

Evan tilted his head enough to glance up at the taller wizard. "You think much of yourself. Once again we simply happen to be heading to the same destination. Fifth year Defense with the snakes and the lions."

"And you know my class schedule? Are you certain you aren't stalking me?"

The stairs came to a stop. Evan got off them backward because Riddle never seemed to know what to do with him when he did so. "Actually I know the entire Defense schedule, not just when _you_ take it."

"Left."

Evan turned left. "Thank you."

"You know all of the schedules for Defense? That doesn't come across as stalkerish to you? Stationary stairs."

He walked up them without looking. "Thanks again. It comes across as _responsible_." He corrected.

He didn't give Riddle the chance to ask what he meant. They were there, the Slytherins collecting to one side and some of Gryffindor collected to other. Some things were the same no matter what era you were in he mused. He gave a sharp whistle. They looked at him, some in confusion and others in annoyance.

"Go on in."

They continued to stare. Evan restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Instead, he pulled out his wand and flicked the door opened, then twirled it in his hand. "I prefer to teach inside the classroom if you lot think you can manage to arrange that." He drawled. "Or just stand there and when I count all of you as absent when the bell rings, give you a zero for the day, and leave to go have some tea in a secret room you'll never find me in, you can blame each other."

That got them moving if grumbling. They all filed in and claimed desks. As Evan made his way to the teacher's desk he could feel Riddle's eyes on him. He turned and sat on the desk as he'd seen Armando do in his office. "Welcome to your first day of O.W.L. Level Defense." He caught Riddle's eyes, allowing a small grin to spread across his face. "My name is Evan Saint James and I'll be your instructor this afternoon."

Bloody. Priceless.

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2017**

* * *

 **Notes:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **AN:** We got to see how Evan approaches his duties as a teaching assistant, to see what sort of teacher Merrythought is -she does have a lot on her plate she should get someone to help her on a regular basis don't you think?- and saw some of Evan's observations.

 **Next Time:** An unusual scavenger hunt. The Transfiguration Professor and the Prefect.

 **-Pseu**

* * *

 _"Now is the dramatic moment of fate,_ _When you hear a step upon the stair which is walking into your life,_ _And you know not whether for good or ill."_

 **―** **A.C.D**


	8. Angel Food

***C*B*T*O***

* * *

 **Cake By The Ocean** **:** **Pseudonymous Entity**

* * *

"Every great story seems to begin with a snake." **-Nicolas Cage**

* * *

 **Summary:** Locked in his headmaster's office after the events at the ministry, Harry discovers a collection of memories revealing the childhood of his enemy...and his own. It is what he _does_ with the information that is interesting.

 **Characters:** Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore, Morfin Gaunt

 **Warnings:** Shock. Disbelief. Denial. Bargaining. Guilt. Anger. Depression. Acceptance. Hope.

 **AN:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **ANx2:** Setting some stuff up. A little Evan and Harry split personality action.

 **Ever Yours, Pseu [The clever, magnificent and ridiculously good looking]**

* * *

 _"When the violence causes silence_  
 _We must be mistaken."_

 **-Zombie**

* * *

 **Cake By The Ocean - Chapter 8**

* * *

Evan thought he could _see_ the wheels turning in Riddle's mind.

The little psychopath analyzing every interaction, every piece of information and reforming it into an image that fitted this revelation. After all, Evan had never actually confirmed any of the deductions the Slytherin had made, he'd only offered his name and blood status really. It was entirely possible he'd been wrong. He could second guess himself. Considering the kid was a genius Evan didn't think he'd entertain the idea of doubting himself for long. He was Tom Bloody Riddle after all. A part of himself dared the other boy to figure him out. To figure out all of it. Never in a million years could that boys guess that the similar in looks wizard before him would be the means of his downfall at the height of his reign as a Dark Lord. That this wizard would continue to thwart him as years passed. It brought up a surge of...something within Evan and Harry alike. Powerful, is that how he felt? Superior in some way? Harry hadn't ever genuinely felt that way in his real life so he couldn't confirm it.

Evan enjoyed it whatever it was. Thrived on it.

Unfortunately, he couldn't continue sitting silently on his desk while staring into Riddle's eyes watching his marvelous brain work while he stared at him in return trying -probably unnervingly succeeding- to puzzle him out. It was starting to freak out the other students for one -which Evan was actually totally fine with, it was Harry who was uncomfortable with drawing too much attention having always had negative experiences with it- and for two he did have a class to teach. Like right now. Merlin, why did he want to pretend to be an adult again? Oh. So he could do this.

"Alright! Let's start." He clapped his hands together. The class jumped. "For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of my company yet, I am not your everyday run-of-the-mill educational administrator. Lesson number one." Evan flicked his wand. The door slammed shut and locked. "You are early or on time. Otherwise you are very, very late." The sound of distressed students knocking on the door to get in made his lips curl into a small grin. "Got it? Lesson number two. I like to start off the first class off the year with an exam."

Groaning. Moaning. Whining. Complaining. Or in the Slytherin's case, dark glares of doom.

"What's the matter? You _did_ do your assigned reading over the summer and then reread the notes your surely took last night in anticipation of a pop quiz, _didn't_ you?" He widened his eyes as if confused and concerned. Evan swore Riddle's lips twitched upward. Hard to confirm because he did that thing where he raised his hand to cover his mouth and coughed, looking some other direction. C'mon Riddle, even crazy people get to laugh. In fact they're kind of expected to.

"No? You didn't? Well that's fine because I have no idea what your assigned reading was if you even have any. Gryffindors can stop hyperventilating. Especially the roundish one over there because that's almost wheezing now and I do not know what to do if you have some sort of respiratory attack in here. I'd probably just keep going with the lesson while the Gryffindors either mocked you or tried to help by making things worse in some heroic way, and the Slytherins internally tried to figure out if you dying in anyway got them money or remained indifferent because you're a penniless muggleborn, okay?"

Something about his soft voice, his open honest body language or both kept the students from laughing. There was something about him, about Evan, that had the Gryffindors unconsciously leaning back and the Slytherins sitting straighter, eyes narrowing. Because he hadn't been joking. He hadn't intended to be funny, though the statement from another surely would have been taken as jest. And somehow they understood that. After all, how often had any of them had someone in authority so bluntly point out the school dynamics like that?

...at least he had their attention.

"No, I won't be testing you on whatever you were supposed to learn over the summer. Instead I'm gonna give you a practical lesson that I made up this morning. See? Now it's fair." The Gryffindors started elbowing one another, smiling tentatively. He shook his head mentally. Poor things. Getting their little hopes up. How...foolish. Should he wait a moment longer before dashing them into smithereens? Oh Holy crap he was like a watered down version of Snape. Delighting in their future looks of despair? Okay a less pale, less sarcastic Snape. Still, Evan's inner Harry Potter felt a tad ill. Just not ill enough to not keep doing it. Because while messing with the students it didn't feel 'good' it did make him feel better. So, what the Hell, right?

"By show of hands, who would say that they're competitive? Everyone. Awesome." Evan slid off the table and flicked his wand again. The students scrambled out of their chairs as the desks started pushing back against the sides of the room to leave an open space. "Grab your stuff people. I will not be replacing anything that gets messed up because it didn't occur to you that leaving it in furniture I'm cramming into other furniture might have negative physical consequences on your belongings. Seriously. And I've got better things to spend my gold on. I also don't care." He waited patiently for everyone to have their stuff and stand in some sort of organized conglomeration before him that mostly amounted to red with red and green with green because heaven forbid they touch and catch each others moronic bravery or insidious cunning germs. Bless.

"The winner or winners of this exam slash contest-"

Someone knocked on the door loudly. It sounded authoritative. Uh Oh. Evan waved a hand. The door unlocked and swung opened. Dumbledore strode in and glancing around with interest. Didn't he have his own class to teach? Evan felt the smallest bit of unease, as if this man may have figured him out. But no, how could he? He forced himself to stay relaxed in his posture, unwilling to show any weakness. Definitely not in a room full of Slytherins nor in front of Dumbledore whom he didn't think he would ever trust and whom Harry certainly didn't.

"You seem to have lost some of your students." Dumbledore pointed out obviously. "Not to worry, I found them in the hallway."

"Oh good, that's _just_ where I left them." Evan gave him his best pretend smile, carefully hiding his annoyance. This man was simply incapable of minding his own business no matter what time one found themselves in. "I'm glad to see they haven't moved. You see, in my class I expect people to be on time. Perhaps next week they will be."

Dumbledore blinked. Perhaps he wasn't used to others not immediately doing as he implied they should? "I see." It didn't really sound like he did. "Perhaps you could reconsider-"

No he didn't think he would.

Evan rolled his shoulder and pretended to wince. It was amazing how quickly Dumbledore changed his attitude. His gaze zeroing in on Evan's shoulder, flickering to Riddle and then back. Did he wonder if Evan had informed Riddle of the incident? Was he worried Evan would proclaim it aloud if he continued? Did he feel guilty for hurting him or was he only concerned about what such an incident would do to hs reputation? He hadn't defeated Grindewald yet. He was just an especially clever Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts right now.

"I apologize. It is, of course, your prerogative as the one teaching the class. I do hope you reconsider it in the future, if I may present my own opinion on the matter. Have a good class, students." Dumbledore left. Ah, the threat of revealing you accosted a seventeen-year-old.

Now, where they Hell was he? Oh right.

"The winner or winners of this exam slash contest get the choice of two prizes. Actually, you're gonna be making a lot of choices this afternoon. But here's the first one you might get if you win. You can get a free passing grade on an assignment you fail miserably, didn't finish or didn't bother to start because you spent all weekend flying over the lake pretending to be bait for the giant squid instead of doing your classwork. I'm looking at you Gryffindor."

They were still watching him warily. In his time there would have been some snickers if a teacher had made a similar comment. Hell, even Moody had gotten laughs and they were half terrified of the scarred man. He couldn't quite stop his grin. Honestly. so far he was playing nicely. He hadn't raised his voice even once, keeping the soft one he'd become known for as Evan. He was slight in stature, his eyes large and young looking. Perhaps he should as Morfin what...oh. Maybe that wildness of Morfin's had rubbed off on him a bit? How...delightful.

"Or if you have the misfortune of attaining a detention you can ask to have it with me -if you don't already cause I'm gonna be in charge of a lot of them so yes that's something for you to look forward to this year- and we can do the educational activity of your choice -as long as you can justify it as in some way educational- instead of oh I don't know carving out eyeballs for potions ingredients or scrubbing all of the seventh year male showers." The Horror.

"Here's another choice for you. You get to choose your own teams. Huzzah for freedom of choice. You can be in a group of five. A group of two. Or you can choose to go it alone. Note, how well you chose will matter later. You can be with members of your own house or not. Be prepared to defend your choice. Go."

When they were done he gave a nod. "Good. Now, for your activity. What _will_ I have you do? Well-"

"Sir? Aren't we going to have to defend our choice?" Asked some busy body Gryffindor who did, in fact, raise her hand but didn't wait to be called on so she really should have just spoken without pretending to be polite.

Evan turned toward her slowly, smiling. "Oh yes. But it'll be after you've had the consequences for your choice. It's like a life lesson. So is this. Detention for speaking without permission."

Her mouth fell open. "But I only asked a question!" The teammates she'd chosen looked less than pleased at this, backing away slightly.

"No, you asked two. Neither time did you wait for me to call on you, instead, you totally interrupted me while I was talking. What if I was going to tell you I released a poisonous unscented gas in the classroom and you had five minutes to figure out how to get out of the room before the lots of you started dropping like flies? We would have like a minute and a half to save ourselves at this point. You are so selfish. Also, it's really irritating, oh and I'm a staff member so you get a detention _because I said so_."

At the slightly panicked looks, he realized he should elaborate. "There is no such gas." They relaxed. "Today." They unrelaxed.

Maybe Snape was on to something. Huh. Because this was freaking fabulous.

Evan swished instead of flicked his wand at the board behind him because variety was the spice of life or some other such overly used saying that no one really understood. And also he was enjoying showing off his mad non-verbal skills. Even if they were incredibly basic and not nearly as cool as the stuff he was learning to do wandless from his fake uncle. But that was a story for another day.

He turned to watch the chalk start scrawling across the board. "This is a list of stuff you need to somehow acquire, and then return here. You will only have a half an hour so you're going to need to be creative. That's code for by whatever means necessary for you Gryffindorks."

"Oi!" It was immediately shushed but he'd heard it.

"Detention whoever that was. I admire your house loyalty but I hate being interrupted." A small groan. "You'll get imaginary points deducted if you get a detention or me into trouble got it?" He looked over his should and stared until they started nodding. "Here you go. Memorize it in some fashion because I'm erasing the board in three minutes. One Ravenclaw tie. One Hufflepuff tie. One Gryffindor tie. One Slytherin tie. The Herbology professor's favourite colour. Any book written the year of your birth. Something purple. A portrait with an awesome beard. A quidditch jersey from an opposing team. One item from the Hufflepuff common room. One from the Ravenclaw. One from Gryffindor and yes one from Slytherin. Good look with that. Imaginary bonus points if you can get someone to give you these things. Bribe. Intimidate. Seduce. Whatever you have to do. You will have to prove the authenticity of your spoils so keep that in mind. Well, what are you still doing here? Time started six minutes ago, you got twenty four left. Leave."

The dash toward the door was madness. Satisfied Evan twirled around and sat on his desk prepared to start a game of hangman. He froze. Riddle remained. Unnecessarily the wizard looked at the watch on his wrist and then up at Evan. "There's three minutes before we need to start."

"Yup." Evan didn't deny it. They both turned and watched the students shoving at one another out the door and into the hallway. He was pretty sure that was a second year Ravenclaw surrounded by a ravenous horde of fifth years students attempting to get his tie. He looked petrified. When would they realize they'd have to negotiate with one another in order to get the tie and item from the other house? He almost wanted to follow them so he could see the realization of having to possible bribe -act Slytherin- in order to get a Slytherin tie hit the Gryffindors. Almost. Right now he had a future dark lord. With him. In the classroom. Alone.

"They're descending into chaos," Riddle mentioned.

"Yup." Evan agreed. Mostly because his use of 'yup' appeared to annoy the other wizard. "So, why are you still here?"

The future dark lord's eyes flicked over him, doing that calculated deduction thing he did.

"Careful. Someone might think you're checking me out." Evan quipped. Though if he were it'd be narcissism in the highest degree because they looked just about as alike as any two people could.

"Do you happen to have a Ravenclaw tie in your desk?" Asked Riddle.

Evan kicked his feet back and forth. "I might."

The Slytherin nodded. "And perhaps almost all of the other items on the list?"

"I thought I'd at least get to see you run around a bit before you figured it out." Evan deflated a little.

"You thought I would guess you were tricking us?"

"Well yeah." Evan put up his hands about a foot a part. "Your brain is like this big. Metaphorically speaking. So how did you figure it out?"

"Your eyes kept going to the desk while you were writing out the list. You either had a list, in which case you could have just brought it out to look at it, or you had the items with you and were visualizing them to help you remember what else was on the list. Also, I was swarmed by first years this morning who inexplicably managed to 'bribe' me with this month's pocket money for me to get something out of the Slytherin common room for them."

"You extorted first years? Wait to go." He paused. "Do you have a book written the year you were born?"

Riddle blinked. "I...no." Gods did he look like a confused rabid puppy.

"Fine." Evan groaned. He stood on his desk and jumped off the other side to pull open a drawer. He took out a book, climbed back over the desk and handed it to him. "You win. But you better show off your creepy genius stuff when the others come back. I want to see the looks on their faces as they realize they didn't have to run around like maniacs."

"Alright." Riddle stood there with remarkable stillness for a teenager. Eerie.

Evan looked around for something to fill the silence. "So...do you know how to play Quidditch?" When he didn't get an answer he glanced up and jumped. Riddle was a lot closer than he'd been a minute ago. And he was...staring at his...arm? Evan raised a brow. "See something you like Riddle?" It was more of a defensive mechanism than a joke this time.

"Dumbledore. Why?"

Well he wasn't expecting that. "Come again?"

"I knew you'd hurt your shoulder or your arm yesterday. I could tell from the way you braced yourself when you fell. Just a little while ago you either pretended to or allowed it to show that it still hurt. Dumbledore left immediately. He has to have been in some way responsible either directly or through negligence. I am going with directly because negligence doesn't seem to bother his conscience from what I have known of the professor. Additionally he glanced at me afterward and I am curious why that is as well. Did you have an argument concerning me? But why would you? I haven't seen either of you interact before though it is obvious that you have. I must have had something to do with it. You did see me directly afterward, I assume. Is that why you were so still when I...grabbed you? You were still wary? But why be wary of Dumbledore, he is well liked. Wary of me then. But why again? So many questions Evan St James."

During this analysis Riddle's long fingers had pulled back Evan's robe gently to expose a bruise. It was probably the surrealist thing to have happened since he found himself in 1942. Riddle pulled out his wand. Rather than flinch away, as a part of his brain was screaming for him to. The Harry part no doubt. Evan sat still and watch with interest. The taller wizard merely gave it a short wave. The bruise faded and an ache he hadn't known was there went along with it.

"Thank you?" Evan offered. Was that appropriate? Perhaps, thank you your I-guess-you're-not-so-evil-but-totally-still-evil evilness?

"Why?" Riddle demanded again. "Dumbledore doesn't usually physically interact with other people, let alone fellow teachers. Why would he do so with you?"

"Junior staff member." He corrected. "Honestly? He thought I was you. Want to tell me why he thought grabbing you with his talon-like hands and spinning you around like a top was an okay thing to do?"

Riddle was tense. Evan only knew because Harry remembered this boy, his movements so well. He stood too straight. His face was too neutral. "Because I am Tom Riddle." Well damn.

Searching for a way to change the subject _-because wow, and he was not qualified to be a guidance counselor, and Harry had way too many childhood issues of his own that were comparable and good Lord did he not want to compare himself to both Snape and Voldemort's mini-self all in one day, no matter how curious Evan was in this conversation, and God yes he was being selfish-_ Evan suggested an alternative subject for their attention, mostly to get rid of the headache arguing with himself gave him.

"Wanna play hangman?"

While explaining the mechanics of the game to the Slytherin, Evan decided he would pursue this mystery of the interactions between the Transfiguration Professor and the Prefect even if Harry was against it. Sure Harry disliked Dumbledore but he didn't seem prepared to see evidence of the man doing anything genuinely horrible outside of keeping information to himself and meddling in other people's affairs. Evan didn't have that issue. There was obviously something not entirely above board going on here. He wanted to know what it was and how he could use it to his advantage to keep Dumbledore away from him and Harry and out of their business. Besides, he wasn't Harry Potter here, he was Evan. And while Evan was in control he would do whatever he thought was necessary to keep their ruse going and their game continuing.

If that meant coming between the big bad professor and the big bad miniature dark lord...well, it would be all the more exiting.

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2017**

* * *

 **Notes:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **AN:** So that happened.

 **ANx2:** Evan has all of those things because he had two sets of first years already do the scavenger hunt. He kept the items.

 **Next Time:** Slytherins, Responsibility, Memories, Realizations, Blackmail

 **-Pseu**

* * *

 _"I tried to hold these secrets inside of me, my mind's like a deadly disease._ _I'm bigger than my demons._ _And all the kids cried out; please stop, you're scaring me!_

 _I can't help this awful energy._ _Goddamn right you should be scared of me, Who is in control?"_

 **-Control**


End file.
